•  • 


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t  1 1 

.•  •  • 


I*  • 


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'^^"•'"-— — ~»iiii 


'"^ommimaam^u 


REMARKB 


BY  BIIaK  NYE. 


(EDGAR  W.   NYE.> 


Ah  Sin  was  his  name; 

And  I  shall  not  deny, 

In  regard  to  the  same, 

What  the  name  might  imply: 

Ikit  his  smile  it  was  pensive  and  childlike, 

As  I  frequent  remarked  to  Bill  Nye. 

— Bret  1 1  arte. 


l7ITJi  OVER  ONE  IR'XDRED  AXD  FIFTY  IIJA'STRATIONS, 
B^■  J.   H.  SMITH. 


NEW  YORK  CITY: 

THE  M.  W.  HAZEN  COMPANY, 

64  and  66  W.  Twenty-Third  St., 

18S7. 


COPYRIGHT    l8S6, 

By  EDGAR  W.  NYE, 

ALL  RIGHTS    RESERVED. 


DIRECTIONS. 


ii 


'HIS  book  is  not  designed  specially  for  any  one  class  of  people.    It  is  for  all.    It  is  a 

ivf^   universal  repository  of  thought.    Some  of  my  best  thoughts  are  contained  in  this 

Y^  book.     Whenever  I  would  think  a  thought  that  I  thought  had  better  remain  unthought, 

I  would  omit  it  from  this  book.    For  that  reason  the  book  is  not  so  large  as  I  had  in- 

'^'g        tended.     When  a  man  coldly  and  dispassionately  goes  at  it  to  eradicate  from  his  work 

all  that  may  not  come  up  to  his  standard  of  merit,  he  can  make  a  large  volume  shrink  till  it  is 

no  thicker  than  the  bank  book  of  an  outspoken  clergyman. 

This  is  the  fourth  book  that  I  have  published  in  response  to  the  clamorous  appeals  of  the 
public.  WTienever  the  public  got  to  clamoring  too  loudly  for  a  new  book  from  me  and  it  got  so 
noisy  that  I  could  not  ignore  it  any  more,  I  would  issue  another  volume.  The  first  was  a  red 
book,  succeeded  by  a  dark  blue  volume,  after  which  I  published  a  green  book,  all  of  which 
were  kindly  received  by  the  American  people,  and,  under  the  present  yielding  system  of  inter- 
national copyright,  greedily  snapped  up  by  some  of  the  tottering  dynasties. 

But  I  had  long  hoped  to  publish  a  larger,  better  and,  if  possible,  a  redder  boolc  than  the 
first;  one  that  would  contain  my  better  thoughts,  thoughts  that  I  had  thought  when  I  was  feel- 
ing well ;  thoughts  that  I  had  emitted  while  my  thinker  was  rearing  up  on  its  hind  feet,  if  I 
may  be  allowed  that  term;  thoughts  that  sprang  forth  with  a  wild  whoop  and  demanded  recog- 
nition. 

This  book  is  the  result  of  that  hope  and  that  wish.  It  is  my  greatest  and  best  book.  It  is 
the  one  that  will  live  for  weeks  after  other  books  have  passed  away.  Even  to  those  who  can- 
not read,  it  will  come  like  a  benison  when  there  is  no  benison  in  the  house.  To  the  ignorant, 
the  pictures  will  be  pleasing.  The  wise  will  revel  in  its  wisdom,  and  the  housekeeper  will  find 
that  with  it  she  may  easily  emphasize  a  statement  or  kill  a  cockroach. 

The  range  of  subjects  treated  in  this  book  is  wonderful,  even  to  me.  It  is  a  library  of  uni- 
versal knowledge,  and  the  facts  contained  in  it  are  different  from  any  other  facts  now  in  use.  I 
have  carefully  guarded,  all  the  way  through,  against  using  hackneyed  and  moth-eaten  facts.  As 
a  result,  I  aiii  al)le  to  come  before  the  people  Avith  a  set  of  new  and  attractive  statements,  so 
fresh  and  so  crisp  that  an  unkind  word  would  wither  them  in  a  moment. 

I  believe  there  is  nothing  more  to  add,  except  that  I  most  heartily  endorse  the  book.  It 
has  been  carefully  read  over  by  the  proof-reader  and  myself,  so  we  do  not  ask  the  public  to  do 
anything  that  we  were  not  willing  to  do  ourselves. 

^g"  I  cannot  be  responsible  for  the  board  of  orphans  whose  parents  read  this  book  and 
leave  their  children  in  destitute  circumstances. 

BILL  NYE. 

Hudson,  Wis.,  November  1, 1886. 


CONTENTS. 


About  Geoloj]ry 201 

About  Portraits 111 

A  Bright  Future  for  Pugilism 458 

Absent  Minded --  296 

A  Calm. ----  276 

Accepting  the  Laramie  Postoffice 161 

A  Circular 373 

A  Collection  of  Keys 383 

A  Convention 407 

A  Father's  Advice  to  his  Son 89 

A  Father's  Letter 21 

A  Goat  in  a  Frame 495 

A  Great  Spiritualist 369 

A  Great  Upheaval —     78 

A  Journalistic  Tenderfoot 162 

A  Letter  of  Regrets 468 

All  AlKmt  Menials 491 

All  About  Oratory 356 

Along  Lake  Superior 97 

A  Lumber  Camp 146 

A  Mountain  Snowstorm. 391 

Anatomy 27 

Anecdotes  of  Justice 363 

Anecdotes  of  the  Stage 430 

A  New  Autograph  Albuiu 178 

A  New  Play 412 

An  Operatic  Entertainment 154 

Answering  an  Invitation 476 

Answers  to  Correspondents 401 

A  Peaceable  Man 268 

A  Picturesque  Picnic 289 

A  Powerful  Speech 493 

Archimedes 23 

A  Resign.... 180 

Arnold  Winkelreid 197 

Asking  for  a  Pass 210 

A  Spencerian  Ass -  301 


Astronomy 125 

A  Thrilling  Experience 131 

A  Wallubi  Night 204 

B.  Franklin,  Deceased 57 

Biography  of  Spartacus ...     271 

Boston  Common  and  Environs 332 

Broncho  Sam 43 

Bunker  Hill 143 

Care  of  Hoiise  Plants 265 

Catching  a  Buffalo 134 

Causes  for  Thanksgiving 302 

Chinese  Justice 399 

Christopher  Columbus 159 

Coiue  Back 409 

Concerning  Book  Publishing 274 

Concerning  Coroners... 50 

Cro^\^ls  and  Crowned  Heads. 352 

Daniel  Webster 485 

Dessicated  Mule 345 

Dogs  and  Dog  Days 157 

Doosedly  Dilatory 307 

"  Done  It  A-Purpose  " 234 

Down  East  Rum 53 

Dr.  Dizart's  Dog 396 

Drunk  in  a  Plug  Hat 334 

E-irly  Day  Justice 440 

Eccentricities  of  Genius 502 

Eccentricity  in  Lunch 91 

Etiquette  at  Hotels 341 

Every  Man  His  Own  Paper-Hanger 311 

Extracts  fiom  a  Queen's  Diary 385 

Farming  in  Maine 305 

Favored  a  Higher  Fine 225 

Fifteen  Years  Apart .--  343 

Flying  Machines 207 

General  Sheridan's  Horse 371 

George  the  Third --  433 


(vii) 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


Great  Sacrifice  of  Bric-a-Brac 405 

Habits  of  a  Literary  Man... _     19 

"Heap  Brain" 258 

History  of  Babylon 189 

Hours  With  Great  Men 48 

How  Evolution  Evolves.. 45 

In  Ackuowledtrment 106 

Insomnia  in  Domestic  Animals 94 

In  Washin-jtou 172 

"I  Spy" 227 

I  Tried  Milliuf? 1(X) 

John  Adams 137 

John  Adams'  Diary 251 

John  Adams'  Diary,  (No.  2,) 254 

John  Adams'  Diary,  (No.  3,) 256 

Knife'htsof  the  Pen 117 

Letter  from  New  York 3"/) 

Letter  to  a  Communist 324 

Life  Insurance  as  a  Health  Restorer 61 

Literary  Freaks.- _ 87 

Lost  Money 393 

Lovely  Horrors _ 192 

Man  Overbored 232 

Mark  Antony ._  229 

Milling  in  Pompeii.. 40 

ISIodern  Architecture 321 

More  Paternal  Correspondence 65 

Mr.  Sweeney's  Cat 30 

Miirray  and  the  Mormons 199 

Mush  and  Melody 185 

My  Dog 287 

My  Experience  as  an  Agriculturist 175 

My  Lecture  Abroad 149 

My  Mine 183 

My  Physician 354 

My  School  Days 11 

Nero 242 

No  More  Frontier _  466 

On  Cyclones 71 

One  Kind  of  Fool. 249 

Our  Forefathers 103 

Parental  Advice 438 

Petticoats  at  the  Polls, 453 

Picnic  Incidents 238 

Plato. 447 

Polygamy  as  a  Religious  Duty 418 

Preventing  a  Scandal 109 


Railway  Etiqtiette 55 

Recollections  of  Noah  Webster 13 

Rev.  Mr.  Hallelujah's  Hoss... 317 

Roller  Skating....' 464 

Rosalinde 379 

Sec6nd  Letter  to  the  President 37 

She  Kind  of  Coaxed  Him 473 

Shorts 387 

Sixty  Minutes  in  America 314 

Skimming  the  Milky  Way 125 

Somnambulism  and  Crime 319 

Spinal  Meningitis 122 

Spring 337 

Squaw  Jim 245 

Squaw  Jim's  Religion 247 

Stirring  Incidents  at  a  Fire 220 

Strabismus  and  Justice 359 

Street  Cars  and  Curiosities 479 

Taxidermy 291 

The  Amateur  Carpenter 165 

The  Approaching  Humorist 260 

The  Arabian  Language 73 

The  Average  Hen 167 

The  Bite  of  a  Mad  Dog... 195 

The  Blase  Young  Man 187 

The  Board  of  Trade 215 

The  Cell  Nest.... _ 436 

The  Chinese  God.... 366 

The  Church  Debt 380 

The  Cow  Boy 217 

The  Crops 84 

The  Duke  of  Rawhide 339 

The  Expensive  Word -  450 

The  Heyday  of  Life... 33 

The  Holy  Terror 329 

The  Indian  Orator.... 443 

The  Little  Barefoot  Boy 223 

The  Miner  at  Home 151 

The  Newspaper 421 

The  Old  South 114 

The  Old  Subscriber 282 

The  Opium  Habit 63 

The  Photograph  Habit. 376 

The  Poor  BhTid  Pig. 482 

The  Sedentary  Hen 456 

The  Silver  Dollar. _ 415 

The  Snake  Indian 461 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


The  Story  of  a  Struggler 279 

The  Wail  of  a  Wife 140 

The  Warrior's  Oration 327 

The  Ways  of  Doctors 293 

The  Weeping  Woman _     81 

The  Wild  Cow 120 

They  Fell 35 

Time's  Changes 347 

To  a  Married  Man. 496 

To  an  Embryo  Poet-- 499 

To  Her  Majesty 15 

To  the  President-Elect 25 


Twombley's  Tale- 68 

Two  Ways  of  Telling  It 488 

Venice 471 

Verona 75 

"We" 389 

What  We  Eat. 202 

Woman's  Wonderful  Influence 298 

Woodtick  William's  Story 169 

Words  About  W  ashington 213 

Wrestling  With  the  Mazy 428 

"  You  Heah  Me,  Sah  ! " 445 


/T\y  Sef^ool  Days. 


^1  OOKING  over  my  own  school  days,  there  are  so  many  things  that  1 
^    would  rather  not  tell,  that  it  will  take  very  little  time  and  sjjace  for  me 
to  use  in  telling  what  I  am  willing  that  the  carping  public  should  know 


a 


'^~"       about  my  early  history. 

I  began  my  educational  career  in  a  log  school  house.  Finding  that  other 
great  men  had  done  that  way,  I  began  early  to  look  around  me  for  a  log  scliool 
house  where  I  could  begin  in  a  small  way  to  soak  my  system  full  of  hurtl 
words  and  information. 

For  a  time  I  learned  very  rapidly.  Learning  came  to  me  with  very  little 
effort  at  first.  I  would  read  my  lesson  over  once  or  twice  and  then  take  my 
place  in  the  class.  It  never  bothered  me  to  recite  my  lesson  and  so  I  stood  at 
the  head  of  the  class.  I  could  stick  my  big  toe  through  a  knot-hole  in  the 
floor  and  work  out  the  most  difficult  problem.  This  became  at  last  a  habit 
with  me.     With  my  knot-hole  I  was  safe,  without  it  I  would  hesitate. 

A  large  red-headed  boy,  with  feet  like  a  summer  squash  and  eyes  like  those 
of  a  dead  codfish,  was  my  rival.  He  soon  discovered  that  I  was  very  dependent 
on  that  knot-hole,  and  so  one  night  he  stole  into  the  school  house  and  plugged 
up  the  knot-hole,  so  that  I  could  not  work  my  toe  into  it  and  thus  refresh  my 
memory. 

Then  the  large  red-headed  boy,  who  had  not  formed  the  knot-hole  habit, 
went  to  the  head  of  the  class  and  remained  there. 

After  I  gi"ew  larger,  my  parents  sent  me  to  a  military  school.  That  is 
where  I  got  the  fine  military  learning  and  stately  carriage  that  I  still  wear. 

My  room  was  on  the  second  floor,  and  it  was  very  difficult  for  me  to  leave 
it  at  night,  l)ecause  the  turnkey  locked  us  up  at  0  o'clock  every  evening.  Still, 
I  used  to  get  out  once  in  a  while  and  wander  around  in  the  starlight.      I  do 

(11) 


12  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

not  kuow  yet  why  I  did  it,  but  I  presume  it  was  a  kind  of  somnambulism.  I 
would  go  to  bed  thinking  so  intently  of  my  lessons  that  I  would  get  up  and 
wander  away,  sometimes  for  miles,  in  the  solemn  night. 

One  niglit  I  awoke  and  found  myself  in  a  watermelon  patch.  I  was  never 
so  ashamed  in  my  life.  It  is  a  very  serious  thing  to  be  awakened  so  rudely 
out  of  a  sound  sleep,  by  a  bull  dog,  to  find  yourself  in  the  watermelon  vine- 
yard of  a  man  with  whom  you  are  not  acquainted.  I  was  not  on  terms  of 
social  intimacy  with  this  man  or  his  dog.  They  did  not  belong  to  our  set.  We 
had  never  been  thrown  together  before. 

After  that  I  was  called  the  great  somnambulist  and  men  who  had  water- 
melon conservatories  shunned  me.  But  it  cured  me  of  my  somnambulism.  I 
have  never  tried  to  somnambule  any  more  since  that  time. 

There  are  other  little  incidents  of  my  schooldays  that  come  trooping  up  in 
my  memory  at  this  moment,  but  they  were  not  startling  in  their  nature.  Mine 
is  but  the  history  of  one  who  struggled  on  year  after  year,  trying  to  do  bet- 
ter, but  most  always  failing  to  connect.  The  boys  of  Boston  would  do  well 
to  study  carefully  my  record  and  then — do  differently. 


I^<?eoll(?etio9S  of  |Nloal7  U/(^bst(?r. 

;^^KK^R.  WEBSTEE,  no  doubt,  had  the  best  command  of  language  of  any 
/\lfWlrll(  ^^®i'i^^^  author  prior  to  our  day.  Those  who  have  read  his  pon- 
^f/Wi-iinll  derous  but  rather  disconnected  romance  known  as  "Webster's  Una- 
-c-t^^--  ]3i.i(jged  Dictionary,  or  How  One  Word  Led  on  to  Another,"  will 
agree  with  me  that  he  was  smart.  Noah  never  lacked  for  a  word  by  which  to 
express  himself.     He  was  a  brainy  man  and  a  good  speller. 

It  would  ill  become  me  at  this  late  day  to  criticise  Mr.  Webster's  great 
work — a  work  that  is  now  in  almost  every  library,  school-room  and  counting 
house  in  the  land.  It  is  a  great  book.  I  do  believe  that  had  Mr.  Webster 
lived  he  would  have  been  equally  fair  in  his  criticism  of  my  books. 

I  hate  to  compare  my  own  works  with  those  of  Mr.  Webster,  because  it  may 
seem  egotistical  in  me  to  point  out  the  good  points  in  my  literary  labors ;  but 
I  have  often  heard  it  said,  and  so  do  not  state  it  solely  upon  my  own  responsi- 
bility, that  Mr.  Webster's  book  does  not  retain  the  interest  of  the  reader  all 
the  way  through. 

He  has  tried  to  introduce  too  many  characters,  and  so  we  cannot  follow  them 
all  the  way  through.  It  is  a  good  book  to  pick  up  and  while  away  an  idle 
hour  with,  perhaps,  but  no  one  would  cling  to  it  at  night  till  the  fire  went  out, 
chained  to  the  thrilling  plot  and  the  glowing  career  of  its  hero. 

Therein  consists  the  great  difference  between  Mr.  Webster  and  myself.  A 
friend  of  mine  at  Sing  Sing  once  wrote  me  that  from  the  moment  he  got  hold 
of  my  book,  he  never  left  his  room  till  he  finished  it.  He  seemed  chained  to 
the  spot,  he  said,  and  if  you  can't  believe  a  convict,  who  is  entirely  out  of  pol- 
itics, who  in  the  name  of  George  Washington  can  you  believe? 

Mr.  AVebster  was  most  assuredly  a  brilliant  writer,  and  I  have  discovered 
in  his  later  editions  118,000  words,  no  two  of  which  are  alike.  This  shows 
great  fluency  and  versatility,  it  is  true,  but  we  need  something  else.  The  reader 
waits  in  vain  to  be  thrilled  by  the  author's  wonderful  word  painting.  There  is 
not  a  thrill  in  the  whole  tome.     I  had  heard  so  much  of  Mr.  Webster  that 

(13) 


14  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

when  I  read  his  book  I  confess  I  was  disappointed.  It  is  cold,  methodical  and 
dispassionate  in  the  extreme. 

As  I  said,  however,  it  is  a  good  book  to  pick  up  for  the  purpose  of  whiling 
away  an  idle  moment,  and  no  one  should  start  out  on  a  long  journey  without 
Mr.  Webster's  tale  in  his  pocket.  It  has  broken  the  monotony  of  many  a 
tedious  trip  for  me. 

Mr.  Webster's  "Speller"  was  a  work  of  less  pretentions,  perhaps,  and  yet 
it  had  an  immense  sale.  Eight  years  ago  this  book  had  reached  a  sale  of  40,- 
000,000,  and  yet  it  had  the  same  grave  defect.  It  was  disconnected,  cold, 
prosy  and  dull.  I  read  it  for  years,  and  at  last  became  a  close  student  of  Mr. 
Webster's  style,  yet  I  never  found  but  one  thing  in  this  book,  for  which  tliere 
seems  to  have  been  such  a  perfect  stampede,  that  was  even  ordinarily  interest- 
ing, and  that  was  a  little  gem.  It  was  so  thrilling  in  its  details,  and  so  dia- 
metrically different  from  Mr.  Webster's  style,  that  I  have  often  wondered  who 
he  got  to  write  it  for  him.  It  related  to  the  discovery  of  a  boy  by  an  elderly 
gentleman,  in  the  crotch  of  an  ancestral  apple  tree,  and  the  feeling  of  bitter- 
ness and  animosity  that  sprung  up  at  the  time  between  the  boy  and  the  elderly 
gentleman. 

Though  I  have  been  a  close  student  of  Mr.  Webster  for  years,  I  am  free  to 
say,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  do  an  injustice  to  a  great  man  in  doing  so,  that  his 
ideas  of  literature  and  my  own  are  entirely  dissimilar.  Possibly  his  book  has 
had  a  little  larger  sale  than  mine,  but  that  makes  no  difference.  When  I  write 
a  book  it  must  engage  the  interest  of  the  reader,  and  show  some  plot  to  it.  It 
must  not  be  jerky  in  its  style  and  scattering  in  its  statements. 

I  know  it  is  a  great  temptation  to  write  a  book  that  will  sell,  but  we  should 
have  a  higher  object  than  that. 

I  do  not  wish  to  do  an  injustice  to  a  man  who  has  done  so  much  for  the 
world,  and  one  who  could  spell  the  longest  word  without  hesitation,  but  I  speak 
of  these  things  just  as  I  would  expect  people  to  criticise  my  work.  If  we 
aspire  to  monkey  with  the  literati  of  our  day  we  must  expect  to  be  criticised. 
That's  the  way  I  look  at  it. 

P.  S. — I  might  also  state  that  Noah  Webster  was  a  member  of  the  Legis- 
lature of  Massachusetts  at  one  time,  and  though  I  ought  not  to  throw  it  up  to 
him  at  this  date,  I  think  it  is  nothing  more  than  right  that  the  public  should 
know  the  truth. 


5o  j\er  ff\3je$ty. 


r|/0  QUEEN  VICTOKIA,  Regina  Dei  Gracia  and  acting  mother-in-law, 

'       on  the  side: 

Dear  Madame. — Your  most  gracious  majesty  will  no  doubt  be  sur- 
'^  prised  to  hear  from  me  after  my  long  silence.  One  reason  that  I  have 
not  written  for  some  time  is  that  I 
had  hoped  to  see  you  ere  this,  and 
not  because  I  had  grown  cold.  I 
desire  to  congratulate  you  at  this 
time  upon  your  great  success  as  a 
mother-in-law,  and  your  very  exem- 
plary career  socially.  As  a  queen 
you  have  given  universal  satisfac- 
tion, and  your  family  have  married 
well. 

But  I  desired  more  especially 
to  write  you  in  relation  to  an- 
other matter.  "VVe  are  struggling 
here  in  America  to  establish  an 
authors'  international  copyright  ar- 
rangement, whereby  the  authors 
of  all  civilized  nations  may  be  pro- 
tected in  their  rights  to  the  profits 
of  their  literary  labor,  and  the 
movement  so  far  has  met  with 
generous  encouragement.  As  an 
author  wo  desire  your  aid  and  en- 
dorsement. Could  you  assist  us?  We  are  ^  ^ 
authors'  readings  in  New  York  to  aid  in  prosecuting  the  work,  and  we  would 

(15) 


ADVERTISING  THE  ENTERmiSE. 

sriviiio;    this  season  a  series  of 


io 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


like  to  know  whether  we  coiikl  not  depend  upon  you  to  take  a  part  in  these 
readings,  rendering  selections  from  your  late  work. 

I  assure  your  most  gracious  majesty  that  you  would  meet  some  of  our  best 
literary  people  while  here,  and  no  pains  would  be  spared  to  make  your  visit  a 
pleasant  one,  aside  from  the  reading  itself.  We  would  advertise  your  appear- 
ance extensively  and  get  out  a  first-class  audience  on  the  occasion  of  your  debut 
here. 

An  effort  would  be  made  to  provide  passes  for  yourself,  and  reduced  rates, 
I  think,  could  be  secured  for  yourself  and  suite  at  the  hotels.     Of  course  you 

could  do  as  you  thought  best  about  bring- 
ing suite,  however.  Some  of  us  travel 
with  our  suites  and  some  do  not.  I  gen- 
erally leave  my  suite  at  home,  myself. 

You  would  not  need  to  make  any  special 
change  as  to  costume  for  the  occasion.  We 
try  to  make  it  informal,  so  far  as  possible, 
and  though  some  of  us  wear  full  dress  we 
do  not  make  that  obligatory  on  those  who 
take  a  part  in  the  exercises.  If  you  decide 
to  wear  your  every-day  reigning  clothes  it 
will  not  excite  comment  on  the  part  of  our 
literati.  We  do  not  judge  an'  author  or 
authoress  by  his  or  her  clothes. 

You  will  readily  see  that  this  will  afford 
you  an  opportunity  to  appear  before  some 
of  the  best  people  of  New  York,  and  at 
the  same  time  you  will  aid  in  a  deserving 
enterprise. 

It  will  also  promote  the  sale  of  your 
book. 

Perhaps  you  have  all  the  royalty  you 
want  aside  from  what  you  may  receive  from  the  sale  of  your  works,  but  every 
author  feels  a  })ardonable  pride  in  getting  his  books  into  every  household. 

I  woiild  assure  your  most  gracious  majesty  that  your  reception  here  as  an 
authoress  will  in  no  way  suffer  because  you  are  an  unnaturalized  foreigner. 
Any  alien  who  feels  a  fraternal  interest  in  the  international  advancement  of 


QUEEN  VIC.  READING. 


TO    HEK    MAJESTY. 


17 


thoufrlit  and  the  universal  enconrai^oment  of  the  jjood,  the  true  and  the  beau- 
tiful  in  literature,  will  be  welcome  on  these  shores. 

This  is  a  broad  land,  and  we  aim  to  be  a  broad  and  cosmopolitan  people. 
Literature  and  free,  willing  genius  are  not  hemmed  in  by  State  or  national  lines. 
They  sprout  up  and  blossom  under  tropical  skies  no  less  than  beneath  the  frigid 
aurora  borealis  of  the  frozen  North.  We  hail  true  merit  just  as  heartily  and 
uproariously  on  a  throne  as  we  would  anywhere  else.  In  fact,  it  is  more  de- 
serving, if  possible,  for  one  who  has  never  tried  it  little  knows  how  difficult  it 
is  to  sit  on  a  hard  throne  all  day  and  write  well.  We  are  to  recognize  strug- 
gling genius  wherever  it  may 

~M\ 


crop  out.  It  is  no  small  matter 
for  an  almost  unknown  monarch 
to  reign  all  day  and  then  write 
an  article  for  the  press  or  a 
chapter  for  a  serial  story,  only, 
perhaps,  to  have  it  returned  by 
the  publishers.  All  these  things 
are  drawbacks  to  a  literary  life, 
that  we  here  in  America  know 
little  of. 

I  hope  your  most  gracious 
majesty  will  decide  to  come,  and 
that  you  will  pardon  this  long 
letter.  It  will  do  you  good  to 
get  out  this  way  for  a  few  weeks, 
and  I  earnestly  hope  that  you 
will  decide  to  lock  up  the  house 
and   come    prepared    to    make 


THE  ACCOMPANIMENT. 


quite  a  visit.  We  have  some  real  good  authors  here  now  in  America,  and  we 
are  not  ashamed  to  show  them  to  any  one.  They  are  not  only  smart,  but  they 
are  well  behaved  and  know  how  to  appear  in  company.  We  generally  read 
selections  from  our  own  works,  and  can  have  a  brass  band  to  play  between  the 
selections,  if  thought  best.  For  myself,  I  prefer  to  have  a  full  brass  band  ac- 
company me  while  I  read.     The  audience  also  approves  of  this  plan. 

AVe  have  been  having  some  very  hot  weather  here  for  the  past  week,  but  it 
is  now  cooler.      Farmers  are  getting  in  their  crops  in  good  shape,  but  wheat  is 


18  REMAllKS    liY    I5ILL    NYE. 

still  low  ill  i)ricc,  and  cranborrios  aro  souring  on  the  vines.  All  of  (mr  canned 
red  raspberries  worked  last  week,  and  we  had  to  can  them  over  again.  Mr. 
Riel,  who  went  into  the  rebellion  business  in  Canada  last  winter,  will  be  hanged 
in  September  if  it  don't  rain.  It  Avill  bo  his  first  a])poarance  on  the  gallows, 
and  quite  a  number  of  our  leading  American  criminals  are  going  over  to  see 
his  debut. 

Ho])ing  to  hear  from  you  by  return  mail  or  prepaid  cablegram,  I  beg  leave 
to  remain  your  most  gracious  and  indulgent  majesty's  humble  and  obedient 
servant.  Bill  Nye. 


I 


I 


j^abits  of  a  yt(^rary  [T\^t). 

"^5  WHE  editor  of  an  Eastern  health  magazine,  having  asked  for  information 
^>^'  ^  relative  to  the  habits,  hours  of  work,  and  style  and  frequency  of  feed 
•^ylji^l  adopted  by  literary  men,  and  several  parties  having  responded  who 
^  were  no  more  essentially  saturated  with  literature  than  I  am,  I  now 
take  my  pen  in  hand  to  reveal  the  true  inwardness  of  my  literary  life,  so  that 
boys,  who  may  yearn  to  follow  in  my  footsteps  and  wear  a  laurel  wreath  the  year 
round  in  place  of  a  hat,  may  know  what  the  personal  habits  of  a  literary  party  are. 

I  rise  from  bod  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  leaving  my  couch  not  because 
I  am  dissatisfied  with  it,  but  because  I  cannot  carry  it  with  me  during  the  day. 

I  then  seat  myself  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  devote  a  few  moments  to 
thought.  Literary  men  who  have  never  set  aside  a  few  moments  on  rising  for 
thought  will  do  well  to  try  it. 

I  then  insert  myself  into  a  pair  of  middle-aged  pantaloons.  It  is  needless  to 
say  that  girls  who  may  have  a  literary  tendency  will  find  little  to  interest  them  here. 

Other  clothing  is  added  to  the  above  from  time  to  time.  I  then  bathe 
myself.  Still  this  is  not  absolutely  essential  to  a  literary  life.  Others  who 
do  not  do  so  have  been  equally  successful. 

Some  literary  people  bathe  before  dressing. 

I  then  go  down  stairs  and  out  to  the  barn,  where  I  feed  the  horse.  Some 
literary  men  feel  above  taking  care  of  a  horse,  because  there  is  really  nothing 
in  common  between  the  care  of  a  horse  and  literature,  but  simplicity  is  my 
Avatchword.  T.  Jefferson  would  have  to  rise  early  in  the  day  to  eclipse  me  in 
simplicity.     I  wish  I  had  as  many  dollars  as  I  have  got  simplicity. 

I  then  go  in  to  breakfast.  This  meal  consists  almost  wholly  of  food.  I  am 
passionately  fond  of  food,  and  I  may  truly  say,  Avith  my  hand  on  my  heart,  that 
I  owe  much  of  my  great  success  in  life  to  this  inward  craving,  this  constant 
yearning  for  something  better. 

During  this  meal  I  frequently  converse  with  my  family.  I  do  not  feel  above 
my  family;  at  least,  if  I  do,  I  try  to  conceal  it  as  much  as  possible.  Buckwheat 
pancakes  in  a  heated  state,  with  maple  syrup  on  the  upper  side,  are  extremely 
conducive  to  literature.  Nothing  jerks  the  mental  faculties  around  with 
greater  rapidity  than  buckwheat  pancakes. 

(19) 


20  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

After  breakfast  tlie  time  is  put  in  to  good  advantage  looking  forward  to  the 
time  Avhen  dinner  will  be  ready.  From  8  to  10  A.  M.,  however,  I  frequently 
retire  to  my  private  library  hot-bed  in  the  hay  mow,  and  write  1,200  words  in 
my  forthcoming  book,  the  price  of  which  will  be  $2.50  in  cloth  and  $4  with 
Russia  back. 

I  then  play  Copenhagen  with  some  little  girls  21  years  of  age,  who  live 
near  by,  and  of  whom  I  am  passionately  fond. 

After  that  I  dig  some  worms,  with  a  view  to  angling.  I  then  angle.  After 
this  I  return  home,  waiting  until  dusk,  however,  as  I  do  not  like  to  attract 
attention.  Nothing  is  more  distasteful  to  a  truly  good  man  of  wonderful  liter- 
ary acquirements,  and  yet  with  singular  modesty,  than  the  coarse  and  rude 
scrutiny  of  the  vulger  herd. 

In  winter  I  do  not  angle.  I  read  the  "Pirate  Prince"  or  the  "Missourian's 
Mash,"  6r  some  other  work,  not  so  much  for  the  plot  as  the  style,  that  I  may 
get  my  mind  into  correct  channels  of  thought.  I  then  play  "  old  sledge"  in  a 
rambling  sort  of  manner.  I  sometimes  spend  an  evening  at  home,  in  order  to 
excite  remark  and  draw  attention  to  my  wonderful  eccentricity. 

I  do  not  use  alcohol  in  any  form,  if  I  know  it,  though  sometimes  I  am 
basely  deceived  by  those  who  know  of  my  peculiar  prejudice,  and  who  do  it, 
too,  because  they  enjoy  watching  my  odd  and  amusing  antics  at  the  time. 

Alcohol  should  be  avoided  entirely  by  literary  workers,  especially  young 
women.  There  can  be  no  more  pitiable  sight  to  the .  tender  hearted,  than  a 
young  woman  of  marked  ability  writing  an  obituary  poem  while  under  the 
influence  of  liquor. 

I  knew  a  young  man  who  was  a  good  writer.  His  penmanship  was  very 
good,  indeed.  He  once  ^vrote  an  article  for  the  press  while  under  the  influence 
of  liquor.  He  sent  it  to  the  editor,  who  returned  it  at  once  with  a  cold  and 
cruel  letter,  every  line  of  which  was  a  stab.  The  letter  came  at  a  time  when 
he  was  full  of  remorse. 

He  tossed  up  a  cent  to  see  whether  he  should  blow  out  his  brains  or  go  into 
the  ready-made  clothing  business.  The  coin  decided  that  he  should  die  by  his 
own  hand,  but  his  head  ached  so  that  he  didn't  feel  like  shooting  into  it.  So 
he  went  into  the  ready-made  clothing  business,  and  now  he  pays  taxes  on 
ST5,000,  so  he  is  probably  worth  $150,000.  This,  of  course,  salves  over  his 
wounded  heart,  but  he  often  says  to  me  that  he  might  have  been  in  the  literary 
business  to-day  if  he  had  let  liquor  alone. 


f\  patl7er's  l^etter. 


4^^v^^Y  DEAE  SON. — Your  letter  of  last  week  readied  us  yesterday,  and 
>  I  \  \f  ^  enclose  $13,  which  is  all  I  have  by  me  at  the  present  time.  I 
r  /  _  V  may  sell  the  other  shote  next  week  and  make  up  the  balance  of  what 
you  wanted.  I  will  probably  have  to  wear  the  old  buffalo  overcoat 
to  meetings  again  this  winter,  but  that  don't  matter  so  long  as  you  are  getting 
an  education. 

I  hope  you  will  get  your  education  as  cheap  as  you  can,  for  it  cramps  your 
mother  and  me  like  Sam  Hill  to  put  up  the  money.  Mind  you,  I  don"t  com- 
plain. I  knew  education  come  high,  but  I  didn't  know  the  clothes  cost  so  like 
sixty. 

I  want  you  to  be  so  that  you  can  go  anywhere  and  spell  the  hardest  word. 
I  want  you  to  be  able  to  go  among  the  Romans  or  the  Medes  and  Persians  and 
talk  to  any  of  them  in  their  own  native  tongue. 

I  never  had  any  advantages  when  I  was  a  boy,  but  your  mother  and  I  de- 
cided that  we  would  sock  you  full  of  knowledge,  if  your  liver  held  out,  regard- 
less of  expense.  We  calculate  to  do  it,  only  we  want  you  to  go  as  slow  on  swallow- 
tail coats  as  possible  till  we  can  sell  our  hay. 

Now,  regarding  that  boat-paddling  suit,  and  that  baseball  suit,  and  that 
bathing  suit,  and  ihat  roUer-rinktum  suit,  and  that  lawn-tennis  suit,  mind,  I 
don't  care  about  the  expense,  because  you  say  a  young  man  can't  really  edu- 
cate himself  thoroughly  without  them,  but  I  wish  you'd  send  home  v/hat  you 
get  through  with  this  fall  and  I'll  wear  them  through  the  winter  under  my  other 
clothes.  We  have  a  good  deal  severer  Avinters  here  than  we  used  to,  or  else 
I'm  failing  in  bodily  health.  Last  winter  I  tried  to  go  through  Avithout  under- 
clothes, the  way  I  did  when  I  was  a  boy,  but  a  Manitoba  wave  came  down  our 
way  and  picked  me  out  of  a  crowd  with  its  eyes  shet. 

In  your  last  letter  you  alluded  to  getting  injured  in  a  little  "hazing  scuffle 
with  a  pelican  from  the  rural  districts."  I  don't  Avant  any  harm  to  come  to 
you,  my  son,  but  if  I  Avent  from  the  rural  districts,  and  another  young  gosling 
from  the  rural  districts  undertook  to  haze  me,  I  Avould  meet  him  when  the  sun 

(21) 


22 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


goes  down,  and  I  would  swat  liim  across  the  back  of  the  neck  with  a  fence 
board,  and  then  I  would  meander  across  the  pit  of  his  stomach  and  put  a  blue 
forget-me-not  under  his  eye. 

Your  father  aint  much  on  Grecian  mythology  and  how  to  get  the  square 
root  of  a  barrel  of  pork,  but  he  wouldn't  allow  any  educational  institutions  to 


RETRIBUTIVE    JUSTICE. 


haze  him  with  impunity.  Perhaps  you  remember  once  when  you  tried  to  haze 
your  father  a  little,  just  to  kill  time,  and  how  long  it  took  you  to  recover. 
Anybody  that  goes  at  it  right  can  have  a  good  deal  of  fun  with  your  father,  but 
those  who  have  sought  to  monkey  with  him,  just  to  break  up  the  monotony  of 
life,  have  most  always  succeeded  in  finding  what  they  sought. 

I  ain't  much  of  a  pensman,  so  you  will  have  to  excuse  this  letter.  We  are 
all  quite  well,  except  old  Fan,  who  has  a  galded  shoulder,  and  hope  this  will 
find  you  enjoying  the  same  great  blessing. 

Your  Father. 


/^ref?i/T\ede8. 


I^^KCHIMEDES,  whose  given  name  has  been  accidentally   torn  off  and 


*\u 


yMf  swallowed  up  in  oblivion,  was  born  in  Syracuse,  2,171  years  ago  last 
lllkA^  spring.  He  was  a  philosopher  and  mathematical  expert.  During  his 
-'^^^  life  he  was  never  successfully  stumped  in  figures.  It  ill  befits  nie  now, 
standing  by  his  new-made  grave,  to  say  aught  of  him  that  is  not  of  praise. 
We  can  only  mourn  his  untimely  death,  and  wonder  which  of  our  little  band  of 
great  men  will  be  the  next  to  go. 

Archimedes  was  the  first  to  originate  and  use  the  word  "Eureka."  It  has 
been  successfully  used  very  much  lately,  and  as  a  result  we  have  the  Eureka 
baking  powder,  the  Eureka  suspender,  the  Eureka  bed-bug  l)uster,  the  Eureka 
shirt,  and  the  Eureka  stomach  bitters.  Little  did  Archimedes  wot,  when  he 
invented  this  term,  that  it  would  come  into  such  general  use. 

Its  origin  has  been  explained  before,  but  it  would  not  be  out  of  place  here 
for  me  to  tell  it  as  I  call  it  to  mind  now,  looking  back  over  Archie's  eventful 
life. 

King  Iliero  had  ordered  an  eighteen  karat  crown,  size  7^-,  and,  after  receiv- 
ing it  from  the  hands  of  the  jeweler,  suspected  that  it  had  been  adulterated.  He 
therefore  applied  to  Archimedes  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  whether  sucli  was  the 
case  or  not.  Archimedes  liatl  just  got  in  on  No.  3,  two  hours  late,  and  covered 
with  dust.  He  at  once  started  for  a  hot  ajul  cold  bath  emporium  on  Sixteenth 
street,  meantime  wondering  how  the  dickens  he  would  settle  that  crown 
business. 

He  filled  the  bath-tub  level  full,  and,  ])iliiig  up  his  raiment  on  the  floor, 
jumped  in.  Displacing  a  large  (pinntity  of  water,  ec^ual  to  his  own  bulk,  he 
thereupon  solved  the  question  of  specific  gravity,  and,  forgetting  his  bill,  for- 
getting his  clothes,  he  sailed  up  Sixteenth  street  and  all  over  Syracuse,  clothed 
in  shimmering  sunlight  and  a  plain  gold  ring,  shouting  "'Eureka!"  He  ran 
head-first  into  a  Syracuse  policeman  and  howled  "Eureka!"  The  policeman 
said:     "  You'll  have  to  excuse  me;  I  don't  know  him."     He  scattered  the  Syr- 

(23) 


24  REMAllKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

acuse  Normal  school  on  its  way  home,  and  tried  to  board  a  Fifteenth  street 
bob-tail  car,  yelling  "Eureka!"  The  car-cMver  told  him  that  Eureka  wasn't 
on  the  car,  and  referred  Archimedes  to  a  clothing  store. 

Everywhere  he  was  greeted  with  surprise.  He  tried  to  pay  his  car-fare, 
but  found  that  he  had  left  his  money  in  his  other  clothes. 

Some  thought  it  was  the  revised  statute  of  Hercules;  that  he  had  become 
weary  of  standing  on  his  pedestal  during  the  hot  weather,  and  had  started  out 
for  fresh  air.     I  give  this  as  I  remember  it.     The  story  is  foundered  on  fact. 

Archimedes  once  said:  "Give  me  where  I  may  stand,  and  I  will  move  the 
world."  I  could  write  it  in  the  original  Greek,  but,  fearing  that  the  nonpareil 
delirium  tremens  type  might  get  ^ort,  I  give  it  in  the  English  language. 

It  may  be  tardy  justice  to  a  great  mathematician  and  scientist,  but  I  have 
a  few  resolutions  of  respect  which  I  would  be  very  glad  to  get  printed  on  this 
solemn  occasion,  and  mail  copies  of  the  paper  to  his  relatives  and  friends: 

"Whekeas,  It  has  pleased  an  All-wise  Providence  to  remove  from  our 
midst  Archimedes,  who  was  ever  at  the  fi'ont  in  all  deserving  labors  and  enter- 
prises; and 

"Whereas,  We  can  but  feebly  express  our  great  sorrow  in  the  loss  of 
Archimedes,  whose  front  name  has  escaped  our  memory ;  therefore 

"  Resolved,  That  in  his  death  we  have  lost  a  leading  citizen  of  Syracuse, 
and  one  who  never  shook  his  friends — never  weakened  or  gigged  back  on  those 
he  loved. 

'■'Resolved,  That  copies  of  these  resolutions  will  be  spread  on  the  moments 
of  the  meeting  of  the  Common  Council  of  Syracuse,  and  that  they  be  published 
in  the  Syracuse  papers  eodtfpdq&cod,  and  that  marked  copies  of  said  papers  be 
mailed  to  the  relatives  of  the  deceased." 


5o  t^e  pre5ide9t-^I<^et. 

„  «vEAB  SIR. — The  painful  duty  of  turiiiiiir  over  to  you  the  administration 
Vn  of  these  United  States  and  the  key  to  the  front  door  of  the  White 
House  has  been  assigned  to  ni.?.  You  will  find  the  key  haiT^ii;"-  inside 
"^^  tne  storm-door,  and  the  cistern-pole  up  stairs  in  the  haymow  of  the  bam, 
I  have  made  a  great  many  suggestions  to  the  outgoing  administration  relative 
to  the  transfer  of  the  Indian  bureau  from  the  department  of  the  Interior  to  that 
of  the  sweet  by-and-by.  The  Indian, 
I  may  say,  has  been  a  great  source  of 
annoyance  to  me,  several  of  their  num- 
ber having  jumped  one  of  my  most 
valuable  mining  claims  on  White  river. 
Still,  I  do  not  complain  of  that.  This 
mine,  however,  I  am  convinced  would  be 
a  good  paying  property  if  properly 
worked,  and  should  you  at  any  time 
wish  to  take  the  regular  army  and  such 
other  help  as  you  may  need  and  re-cap- 
ture it  from  our  red  brothers,  I  would 
bo  glad  to  give  you  a  controlling  inter- 
est in  it. 

You  will  find  all  papers  in  their  ap- 
propriate pigeon-holes,  and  a  small  jar 
of  cucumber  pickles  down  cellar,  which 
were  left  over  and  to  which  you  will  be 
perfectly  welcome.  The  asperities  and  heart  burnings  that  were  the  immedi- 
ate result  of  a  hot  and  unusually  bitter  campaign  are  now  all  buried.  Take 
these  pickles  and  use  them  as  though  they  were  your  own.  They  are  none  too 
good  for  you.  You  deserve  them.  AVe  may  differ  politically,  but  that  need 
not  interfere  with  our  warm  personal  friendship. 

(25) 


A    DEAllTH    OF   SOAP   IN   THE    LAUNDRY 
AND  15ATH-H00M. 


26  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE, 

Toil  will  observe  on  taking  possession  of  the  administration,  that  tlie  navy 
is  a  little  bit  weather-beaten  and  wormy.  I  would  suggest  that  it  be  newly 
painted  in  the  spring.  If  it  had  been  my  good  fortune  to  receive  a  majority 
of  the  suffrages  of  the  people  for  the  office  which  you  now  hold,  I  should 
have  painted  the  navy  red.  Still,  that  need  not  influence  you  in  the  course 
which  you  may  see  fit  to  adopt. 

Tliere  are  many  aflfairs  of  great  moment  which  I  have  not  enumerated  in 
this  brief  letter,  because  I  felt  some  little  delicacy  and  timidity  about  appear- 
ing to  be  at  all  dictatorial  or  officious  about  a  matter  wherein  the  public  might 
charge  me  with  interference. 

I  hope  you  will  receive  the  foregoing  in  a  friendly  spirit,  and  whatever 
your  convictions  may  be  upon  great  questions  of  national  interest,  either  for- 
eign or  domestic,  that  you  will  not  undertake  to  blow  out  the  gas  on  retiring, 
and  that  you  will  in  other  ways  realize  the  fond  anticipations  which  are  now 
cherished  in  your  behalf  by  a  mighty  people  whose  aggregated  eye  is  now  on 
to  you.  Bill  Nye. 

P.  S. — You  will  be  a  little  surprised,  no  doubt,  to  find  no  soap  in  the  laun- 
dry or  bath-rooms.  It  probably  got  into  the  campaign  in  some  way  and  was 
absorbed.  B.  N. 


/^Qatomy. 


y HE  word  anatomy  is  derived  from  two  Greek  spatters  and  three  poly. 


wogs,  which,  when  translated,  signify  "up  through"  and  "to  cut,"  so 
that    anatomy    actually,   when  translated  from  the  original    wappy- 
""^      jawed  Greek,   means  to  cut  up  through.     That  is  no  doubt  the  reason 
why  the  medical  student  proceeds  to  cut  up  through  the  entire  course. 

Anatomy  is  so  called  because  its  best  results  are  obtained  from  the  cutting  or 

dissecting  of  organism.  For  that  reason 
there  is  a  growing  demand  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  medical  college  for  good 


second-hand  organisms.  Parties  having 
well  presei*ved  organisms  that  they  are 
not  actually  using,  will  do  well  to  call  at 
the  side  door  of  the  medical  college  after 
10  P.M. 

The  branch  of  the  comparative  anat- 
omy which  seeks  to  trace  the  unities  of 
plan  which  are  exhibited  in  diverse  or- 
ganisms, and  which  discovers,  as  far  as 
may  be,  the  principles  which  govern  the 
growth  and  development  of  organized 
bodies,  and  which  finds  functional  analo- 
\  V^    7/!  Wlln'j^^'  ^—t-^^^       ^^^^  ^^^'^^  structural  homologies,  is  denom- 

'     "^  -      -_....  iuated    philosopliical    or    transcendental 

anatomy.  ( This  statement,  though  strictly 
true,  is  not  original  with  me. ) 

Careful  study  of  the  human  organism 
after  death,  shows  traces  of  functional  analogies  and  structural  homologies 
in  people  who  were  supposed  to  have  been  in  perfect  health  all  their  lives. 

(27) 


STUDYING  ANATOMY. 


28  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Probably  many  of  those  we  meet  in  tlie  daily  walks  of  life,  many,  too,  who 
wear  a  smile  and  outwardly  seem  ha|)py,  have  either  one  or  both  of  these 
things.  A  man  may  live  a  false  life  and  deceive  his  most  intimate  friends  in 
the  matter  of  anatomical  analogies  or  homologies,  but  he  cannot  conceal  it 
from  the  eagle  eye  of  the  medical  student.  The  ambitious  medical  student 
makes  a  specialty  of  true  inwardness. 

The  study  of  the  structure  of  animals  is  called  zootomy.  The  attempt  to  study 
the  anatomical  structure  of  the  grizzly  bear  from  the  inside  has  not  been 
crowned  with  success.  When  the  anatomizer  and  the  bear  have  been  thrown 
together  casually,  it  has  generally  been  a  struggle  between  the  two  organisms 
to  see  which  would  make  a  study  of  the  structure  of  the  other.  Zootomy  and 
moral  suasion  are  not  homogeneous,  analogous,  nor  indigenous. 

Vegetable  anatomy  is  called  phytonomy,  sometimes.  But  it  would  not  be 
safe  to  address  a  vigorous  man  by  that  epithet.  "VVe  may  call  a  vegetable  that, 
however,  and  be  safe. 

Human  anatomy  is  that  branch  of  anatomy  which  enters  into  the  description 
of  the  structure  and  geographical  distribution  of  the  elements  of  a  human 
being.  It  also  applies  to  the  structure  of  the  microbe  that  crawls  out  of  jail 
every  four  years  just  long  enough  to  whip  his  wife,  vote  and  go  back  again. 

Human  anatomy  is  either  general,  specific,  topographical  or  surgical. 
These  terms  do  not  imply  the  dissection  and  anatomy  of  generals,  specialists, 
topographers  and  surgeons,  as  they  might  seem  to  imply,  but  really  mean 
something  else.  I  would  explain  here  what  they  actually  do  mean  if  I  had 
more  room  and  knew  enough  to  do  it. 

Anatomists  divide  their  science,  as  well  as  their  subjects,  into  fragments. 
Osteology  treats  of  the  skeleton,  myology  of  the  muscles,  angiology  of  the 
blood  vessels,  splanchology  the  digestive  organs  or  department  of  the  interior, 
and  so  on. 

People  tell  pretty  tough  stories  of  the  young  carvists  who  study  anatomy 
on  subjects  taken  from  life.  I  would  repeat  a  few  of  them  here,  but  they  are 
productive  of  insomnia,  so  I  will  not  give  them. 

I  visited  a  matinee  of  this  kind  once  for  a  short  time,  but  I  have  not  been 
there  since.  When  I  have  a  holiday  now,  the  idea  of  spending  it  in  the 
dissectinj'-room  of    a  larije  and  flourishinjj  medical  collejje  does  not  occur 

o  o  o  o 

to  me. 

I  never  could  be  a  successful  surgeon,  I  fear.     While  I  have  no  hesitation 


ANATOMY. 


29 


about  mutilating  the  English,  I  have  scruples  about  cutting  up  other  nation- 
alities. I  should  always  fear,  while  pursuing  ray  studies,  that  I  might  be 
called  upon  to  dissect  a  friend,  and  I  could  not  do  that.  I  should  like  to  do  any- 
thing that  would  advance  the  cause  of  science,  but  I  should  n(jt  want  to  form 
the  habit  of  dissecting  people,  lest  some  day  I  might  be  called  upon  to  dissect 
a  friend  for  who2n  I  had  a  great  attachment,  or  some  creditor  who  had  an 
attachment  for  me. 


/r\r.  Su;ee9ey'5  Qat. 


g,,^OBEKT  OEMSBY  SWEENEY  is  a  druggist  of  St.  Paul,  and  though 
3  a  recent  chronological  record  reveals  the  fact  that  he  is  a  direct  descend- 
";),\\\(  ant  of  a  sure-enough  king,  and  though  there  is  mighty  good  purple, 
royal  blood  in  his  veins  that  dates  back  where  kings  used  to  have  some- 
thing to  do  to  earn  their  salary,  he  goes  right  on  with  his  regular  business, 
selling  drugs  at  the  great  sacrifice  which  druggists  will  make  sometimes  in  order 
to  place  their  goods  within  the  reach  of  all. 

As  soon  as  I  learned  that  Mr.  Sweeney  had  barely  escaped  being  a  crowned 
head,  I  got  acquainted  with  him  and  tried  to  cheer  him  up,  and  I  told  him  that 
people  wouldn't  hold  him  in  any  way  responsible,  and  that  as  it  hadn't  shown 
itself  in  his  family  for  years  he  might  perhaps  finally  wear  it  out. 

He  is  a  mighty  pleasant  man  to  meet,  anyhow,  and  you  can  have  just  as 
much  fun  with  him  as  you  could  with  a  man  who  didn't  have  any  royal  blood 
in  his  veins.  You  could  be  with  him  for  days  on  a  fishing  trip  and  never 
notice  it  at  all. 

But  I  Avas  going  to  speak  more  in  particular  about  Mr.  Sweeney's  cat.  Mr. 
Sweeney  had  a  large  cat,  named  Dr.  Mary  Walker,  of  which  he  was  very  fond. 
Dr.  Mary  Walker  remained  at  the  drug  store  all  the  time,  and  was  known  all 
over  St.  Paul  as  a  quiet  and  reserved  cat.  If  Dr.  Mary  Walker  took  in  the 
town  after  ofiice  houi's,  nobody  seemed  to  know  anything  about  it.  She  would 
be  around  bright  and  cheerful  the  next  morning  and  attend  to  her  duties  at  the 
store  just  as  though  nothing  whatever  had  happened. 

One  day  last  summer  Mr.  Sweeney  left  a  large  plate  of  fly-paper  with 
water  on  it  in  the  window,  hoping  to  gather  in  a  few  quarts  of  flies  in  a  de- 
ceased state.  Dr.  Mary  Walker  used  to  go  to  this  window  during  the  after- 
noon and  look  out  on  the  busy  street  while  she  called  up  pleasant  memories 
of  her  past  life.  That  afternoon  she  thought  she  would  call  up  some  more 
memories,  so  she  went  over  on  the  counter  and  from  there  jumped  dov/ii  on  the 
window-sill,  landing  with  all  four  feet  in  the  plate  of  fly-paper. 

(30) 


MR.    SWEENEY  S    CAT. 


31 


At  first  she  regarded  it  as  a  joke,  and  treated  the  matter  very  lightly,  hut 
later  on  she  observed  that  the  fly-paper  stuck  to  her  feet  with  great  tenacity  o£ 
purpose.  Those  who  have  never  seen  the  look  of  surprise  and  deep  sorrow  that  a 
cat  wears  when  she  finds  herself  glued  to  a  whole  sheet  of  fly-paper,  cannot  fully 
appreciate  the  way  Dr.  Mary  Walker  felt.  She  did  not  dash  wildly  through  a 
$150  plate-glass  window,  as  some  cats  would  have  done.  She  controlled  herself 
and  acted  in  the  coolest  manner,  though  you  could  have  seen  that  men- 
tally she  suffered  intensely.  She  sat  down  a  moment  to  more  fully  outline 
a  plan  for  the  future.     In  doing  so,  she  made  a  great  mistake.     The  gesture 


AT    FIRST    SHE    REGARDED    IT    AS   A   JOKE. 

resulted  in  gluing  the  fly-paper  to  her  person  in  such  a  way  that  the  edge 
turned  up  behind  in  the  most  abrupt  manner,  and  caused  her  great  incon- 
venience. 

Some  one  at  that  time  laughed  in  a  coarse  and  heartless  way,  and  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  the  look  of  pain  that  Dr.  Mary  Walker  gave  him. 

Then  she  went  away.  She  did  not  go  around  the  prescription  case  as  the 
rest  of  us  did,  but  strolled  through  the  middle  of  it,  and  so  on  out  through  the 
glass  door  at  the  rear  of  the  store.  We  did  not  see  her  go  through  the  glass 
door,  but  we  found  pieces  of  fly-paper  and  fur  on  the  ragged  edges  of  a  large 
aperture  in  the  glass,  and  we  kind  of  jumped  at  the  conclusion  that  Dr.  Mary 
Walker  had  taken  that  direction  in  retiring  from  the  room. 


32 


REMAllKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


Dr.  Mary  Walkor  never  retiirjuMl  to  8t.  Paul,  and  her  exact  whereabouts 
are  not  known,  thougli  every  ejffiort  was  made  to  find  her.  Fragments  of  fly- 
paper and  hrindle  liair  were  found  as  far  west  as  the  Yellowstone  National 
Park,  and  as  far  north  as  the  British  line,  but  the  doctor  herself  was  not  found. 
My  own  theory  is,  that  if  she  turned  her  bow  to  the  west  so  as  to  catch  the 
strong  easterly  gale  on  her  quarter,  with  the  sail  she  had  set  and  her  tail  point- 
ing directly  toward  the  zenith,  the  chances  for  Dr.  Mary  Walker's  immediate 
return  are  extremely  slim. 


Jf?e  j^eyday  of  l^ife. 


HERE  will  always  be  a  slight  difference  in  the  opin- 
ions of  the  young  and  the  mature,  relative  to  the 
general  plan  on  which  the  solar  system  should  be 
operated,  no  doubt.     There  are  also  points  of  disa- 
greement in   other   matters,   and  it  looks    as    though 
there  always  would  be. 

To  the  young  the  future  has  a  more  roseate  hue. 
The  roseate  hue  comes  high,  but  we  have  to  use  it  in 
this  place.  To  the  young  there  spreads  out  across  the 
horizon  a  glorious  range  of  possibilities.  After  the 
youth  has  endorsed  for  an  intimate  friend  a  few  times, 
and  purchased  the  paper  at  the  bank  himself  later  on, 
the  horizon  won't  seem  to  horizon  so  tumultuously  as  it 
did  aforetime.  I  remember  at  one  time  of  purchasing  such  a  piece  of  accom- 
modation paper  at  a  bank,  and  I  still  have  it.  I  didn't  need  it  any  more  than 
a  cat  needs  eleven  tails  at  one  and  the  same  time.  Still  tlie  bank  made  it  an 
object  for  me,  and  I  secured  it.  Such  things  as  these  harshly  knock  the  flush 
and  bloom  ofp  the  cheek  of  youth,  and  prompt  us  to  turn  the  strawberry-box 
bottom  side  up  before  we  purchase  it. 

Youth  is  gay  and  hopeful,  age  is  covered  with  experience  and  scars  where 
the  skin  has  been  knocked  off  and  had  to  grow  on  again.  To  the  young  a  dol- 
lar looks  large  and  strong,  but  to  the  middle-aged  and  the  old  it  is  weak  and 
inefficient. 

When  we  are  in  the  heyday  and  fizz  of  existence,  we  believe  everything ; 
but  after  awhile  we  murmur:  "  AVhat's  that  you  are  givin'  us,"  or  words  of  like 
character.  Age  brings  caution  and  a  lot  of  shop-worn  experience,  purchased 
at  the  highest  market  price.  Time  brings  vain  regrets  and  wisdom  teeth  that 
can  be  left  in  a  glass  of  water  over  night. 

Still  we  should  not  repine.  If  people  would  repine  less  and  try  liarder  to 
get  up  an  appetite  by  persweating  in  someone's  vineyard  at  so  much  per  diem, 

(33) 


34  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

it  would  be  better.  The  American  people  of  late  years  seem  to  have  a  deeper 
and  deadlier  repugnance  for  mannish  industry,  and  there  seems  to  be  a  grow- 
ing opinion  that  our  crops  are  riiore  abundant  when  saturated  with  foreign 
perspiration.  European  sweat,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  use  such  a  low  term,  is 
very  good  in  its  place,  but  the  native-born  Duke  of  Dakota,  or  the  Earl  of  York 
State  should  remember  that  the  matter  of  perspiration  and  posterity  should 
not  be  left  solely  to  the  foreigner. 

There  are  too  many  Americans  who  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin.  They 
would  be  willing  to  have  an  office  foisted  upon  them,  but  they  would  rather 
blow  their  so-called  brains  out  than  to  steer  a  pair  of  large  steel-gray  mules 
from  day  to  day.  They  are  too  proud  to  hoe  corn,  for  fear  some  great  man 
will  ride  by  and  see  the  termination  of  their  shirts  extending  out  through  the 
seats  of  their  pantaloons,  but  they  are  not  too  proud  to  assign  their  shattered 
finances  to  a  friend  and  their  shattered  remains  to  the  morgue. 

Pride  is  all  right  if  it  is  the  right  kind,  but  the  pride  that  prompts  a 
man  to  kill  his  mother,  because  she  at  last  refuses  to  black  his  boots  any  more, 
is  an  erroneous  pride.  The  pride  that  induces  a  man  to  muss  up  the  carpet 
with  his  brains  because  there  is  nothing  left  for  him  to  do  but  to  labor,  is  the 
kind  that  Lucifer  had  when  he  bolted  the  action  of  the  convention  and  went 
over  to  the  red-hot  minority. 

Youth  is  the  spring-time  of  life.  It  is  the  time  to  acquire  information,  so 
that  we  may  show  it  ofp  in  after  years  and  paralyze  people  with  what  we  know. 
The  wise  youth  will  "lay  Ioav"  till  he  gets  a  whole  lot  of  knowledge,  and  then 
in  later  days  turn  it  loose  in  an  abrupt  manner.  He  will  guard  against  tell- 
ing what  he  knows,  a  little  at  a  time.  That  is  unwise.  I  once  knew  a  youth 
who  wore  himself  out  telling  people  all  he  knew  fi'om  day  to  day,  so  that  when 
he  became  a  bald-headed  man  he  was  utterly  exhausted  and  didn't  have  any- 
thing left  to  tell  anyone.  Some  of  the  things  that  we  know  should  be  saved 
for  our  own  use.  The  man  who  sheds  all  his  knowledge,  and  don''t  leave 
enough  to  keep  house  with,  fools  himself. 


Jl?ey  pell. 


n 


Wf'WO  delegates  to  the  General  Convocation  of  the  Sons  of  Ice  Water 
„v^  were  sitting  in  the  lobby  of  the  "Windsor,  in  the  city  of  Denver,  not 
L ;     long  ago,  strangers  to  each  other  and  to  everybody  else.     One  came 


^  from  Huerferno  county,  and  the  other  was  a  delegate  from  the  Ice 
Water  Encampment  of  Correjos  county. 

From  the  beautiful  billiard  hall  came  the  sharp  rattle  of  ivory  balls,  and 
in  the  bar-room  there  was  a  glitter  of  electric  light,  cut  glass,  and  French 
plate  mirrors.  Out  of  the  door  came  the  merry  laughter  of  the  giddy  throng, 
flavored  with  fragrant  Havana  smoke  and  the  delicate  odor  of  lemon  and 
mirth  and  pine  apple  and  cognac. 

The  delegate  from  Correjos  felt  lonely,  and  he  turned  to  the  Ice  Water 
representative  from  Huerferno: 

"That  was  a  bold  and  fearless  speech  you  made  this  afternoon  on  the  demon 
rum  at  the  convocation." 

"Think  so?"  said  the  sad  Huerferno  man, 

"  Yes,  you  entered  into  the  description  of  rum's  maniac  till  I  could  almost 
see  the  red-eyed  centipedes  and  tropical  hornets  in  the  air.  How  could  you 
describe  the  jimjams  so  graphically?" 

"Well,  you  see,  I'm  a  reformed  drunkard.  Only  a  little  while  ago  I  was  in 
the  gutter." 

"So  was  I." 

"How  long  ago?" 

"Week  ago  day  after  to-morrow." 

"Next  Tuesday  it'll  be  a  week  since  I  quit." 

"Well,  I  swan!" 

"Ain't  it  funny?" 

"Tolerable." 

***  *  ***** 

"It's  going  to  be  a  long,  cold  winter;  don't  you  think  so?" 

(35) 


36  BEMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

"Yes,  I  dread  it  a  good  deal." 

^|C  ^  ^  TP  TfP  ^  *(&  Tft  TV 

"It's  a  comfort,  though,  to  know  that  you  never  will  touch  rum  again." 

"Yes,  I  am  glad  in  my  heart  to-night  that  I  am  free  from  it.  I  shall  never 
touch  rum  again." 

When  he  said  this  he  looked  up  at  the  other  delegate,  and  they  looked  into 
each  other's  eyes  earnestly,  as  though  each  would  read  the  other's  soul.  Then 
the  Huerferno  man  said: 

"In  fact,  I  never  did  care  much  for  rum." 

Then  there  was  a  long  pause. 

Finally  the  Correjos  man  ventured:  "Do  you  have  to  use  an  antidote  to 
cui'e  the  thirst?" 

"Yes,  I've  had  to  rely  on  that  a  good  deal  at  first.  Probably  this  vain 
yearning  that  I  now  feel  in  the  pit  of  the  bosom  will  disappear  after  awhile." 

"Have  you  got  any  antidote  with  you?" 

"Yes,  I've  got  some  up  in  232^.     If  you'll  come  up  I'll  give  you  a  dose." 

"There's  no  rum  in  it,  is  there?" 

"No." 

Then  they  went  up  the  elevator.  They  did  not  get  down  to  breakfast,  but 
at  dinner  they  stole  in.  The  man  from  Huerferno  dodged  nervously  through 
the  archway  leading  to  the  dining-room  as  though  he  had  doubts  about  getting 
through  so  small  a  space  with  his  augmented  head,  and  the  man  from  Correjos 
looked  like  one  who  had  wept  his  eyes  almost  blind  over  the  woe  that  rum  has 
wrought  in  our  fair  land. 

When  the  waiter  asked  the  delegate  from  Correjos  for  his  desert  order,  the 
red-nosed  Son  of  Ice  Water  said:  "Bring  me  a  cup  of  tea,  some  pudding 
without  wine  sauce,  and  a  piece  of  mince  pie.  You  may  also  bring  me  a  cork- 
screw, if  you  please,  to  pull  the  brandy  out  of  the  mince  pie  with." 

Then  the  two  reformed  drunkards  looked  at  each  other,  and  laughed  a 
hoarse,  bitter  and  joyous  laugh. 

At  the  afternoon  session  of  the  Sons  of  Ice  Water,  the  Huerferno  delegate 
couldn't  get  his  regalia  over  his  head. 


^e(^OT)d  better  to  tl^e  president. 

^1  O  THE  PEESIDENT. — I  write  this  letter  not  on  my  own  account,  but 
''■-^l  on  behalf  of  a  personal  friend  of  mine  who  is  known  as  a  mugwump. 
He  is  a  great  worker  for  political  reform,  but  he  cannot  spell  very  well, 
"^'^  so  he  has  asked  me  to  write  this  letter.  He  knew  that  I  had  been 
thrown  among  great  men  all  my  life,  and  that,  owing  to  my  high  social  position 
and  fine  education,  I  would  be 
peculiarly  fitted  to  write  you  in 
a  way  that  would  not  call  forth 
disagreeable  remarks,  and  so  he 
has  given  me  the  points  and  I 
have  arranged  them  for  you. 

In  the  first  place,  my  friend 
desires  me  to  convey  to  you,  Mr. 
President,  in  a  delicate  manner, 
and  in  such  language  as  to  avoid 
giving  ofPense,  that  he  is  some- 
what disappointed  in  your  Cabi- 
net. I  hate  to  talk  this  way  to 
a  bran-new  President,  but  my 
friend  feels  hurt  and  he  desires 
that  I  should  say  to  you  that  he 
regrets  your  short-sighted  pol- 
icy. He  says  that  it  seems  to 
him  there  is  very  little  in  the 
course  of  the  administration  so 
far  to  encourage  a  man  to  shake 
off  old  party  ties  and  try  to 
make  men  better.  He  desires  to  say  that  after  conversing  with  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  purest  men,  men  who  have  been  in  both  political  parties  off  and  on 
for  years  and  yet  have  never  been  corrupted  by  office,  men  who  have  left  con- 

(37) 


WORKING  FOR  REFORM. 


38  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

vention  after  convention  in  years  past  because  those  conventions  were  corrupt 
and  endorsed  other  men  than  themselves  for  office,  he  finds  that  your  appoint- 
ment of  Cabinet  officers  will  only  please  two  classes,  viz:  Democrats  and  Ke- 
publicans. 

Now,  what  do  you  care  for  an  administration  which  will  only  gratify  those 
two  old  parties?  Are  you  going  to  snap  your  fingers  in  disdain  at  men  who 
admit  that  they  are  superior  to  anybody  else  ?  Do  you  Avaiit  history  to  chron- 
icle the  fact  that  President  Cleveland  accepted  the  aid  of  the  pure  and  highly 
cultivated  gentlemen  who  never  did  anything  naughty  or  unpretty,  and  then 
appointed  his  Cabinet  from  men  who  had  been  known  for  years  as  rude,  naughty 
Democrats  ? 

My  friend  says  that  he  feels  sure  you  would  not  have  done  so  if  you  had 
fully  realized  how  he  felt  about  it.  He  claims  that  in  the  first  week  of  your 
administration  you  have  basely  truckled  to  the  corrupt  majority.  You  have 
shown  yourself  to  be  the  friend  of  men  who  never  claimed  to  be  truly  good. 

If  you  persist  in  this  course  you  will  lose  the  respect  and  esteem  of  my 
friend  and  another  man  who  is  politically  pure,  and  who  has  never  smirched 
his  escutcheon  with  an  office.  He  has  one  of  the  cleanest  and  most  vigorous 
escutcheons  in  that  county.  He  never  leaves  it  out  over  night  during  the  sum- 
mer, and  in  the  winter  he  buries  it  in  sawdust.  Both  of  these  men  will  go 
back  to  the  Republican  party  in  1888  if  you  persist  in  the  course  you  have 
thus  far  adopted.  They  would  go  back  now  if  the  Republican  party  insisted 
on  it. 

Mr.  President,  I  hate  to  write  to  you  in  this  tone  of  voice,  because  I  know 
the  pain  it  will  give  you.  I  once  held  an  office  myself,  Mr.  President,  and  it 
hurt  my  feelings  very  much  to  have  a  warm  personal  friend  criticise  my  official 
acts. 

The  worst  feature  of  the  whole  thing,  Mr.  President,  is  that  it  will  encour- 
age crime.  If  men  who  never  committed  any  crime  are  allowed  to  earn  their 
living  by  the  precarious  methods  peculiar  to  manual  labor,  and  if  those  who 
have  abstained  from  office  for  years,  by  request  of  many  citizens,  are  to  be 
denied  the  endorsement  of  the  administration,  they  will  lose  courage  to  go  on 
and  do  right  in  the  future.  My  friend  desires  to  state  vicariously,  in  the 
strongest  terms,  that  both  he  and  his  wife  feel  the  same  way  about  it,  and  they 
will  not  promise  to  keep  it  quiet  any  longer.  They  feel  like  crip;^:>ling  the  ad- 
ministration in  every  way  they  can  if  the  present  policy  is  to  be  pursued. 


SECOND    LETTER    TO    THE    PRESIDENT.  39 

He  says  he  dislikes  to  begin  thus  early  to  threaten  a  President  who  has 
barely  taken  off  his  overshoes  and  drawn  his  mileage,  but  he  thinks  it  may 
jjrevent  a  recurrence  of  these  unfortunate  mistakes.  He  claims  that  you  have 
totally  misunderstood  the  principles  of  the  mugwumps  all  the  way  through. 
You  seem  to  regard  the  reform  movement  as  one  introduced  for  the  purpose  of 
universal  benefit.  •  This  was  not  the  case.  While  fully  end  .rsing  and  sup- 
porting reform,  he  says  that  they  did  not  go  into  it  merely  to  kill  time  or  sim- 
ply for  fun.  He  also  says  that  when  he  became  a  reformer  and  supported  you, 
he  did  not  think  there  were  so  many  prominent  Democrats  who  would  have 
claims  upon  you.  He  can  only  now  deplore  the  great  national  poverty  of 
offices  and  the  boundless  wealth  of  raw  material  in  the  Democratic  party  from 
which  to  supply  even  that  meagre  demand. 

He  wishes  me  to  add,  also,  that  you  must  have  over-estimated  the  zeal  of 
his  party  for  civil  service  reform.  He  says  that  they  did  not  yearn  for  civil 
service  reform  so  much  as  many  people  seem  to  think. 

I  must  now  draw  this  letter  to  a  close.  We  are  all  well  Avith  the  exception 
of  colds  in  the  head,  but  nothing  that  need  give  you  any  uneasiness.  Our 
large  seal-brown  hen  last  week,  stimulated  by  a  rising  egg  market,  over-exerted 
herself,  and  on  Saturday  evening,  as  the  twilight  gathered,  she  yielded  to  a 
complication  of  pip  and  softening  of  the  brain  and  expired  in  my  arms.  Sh(^ 
certainly  led  a  most  exemplary  life  and  the  forked  tongue  of  slander  couhl 
find  naught  to  utter  against  her. 

Hoping  that  you  are  enjoying  the  same  great  blessing  and  that  you  will 
write  as  often  as  possible  without  waiting  for  me,  I  remain, 

Yery  respectfully  yours,         Bill  Nye. 
[Dictated  Letter.] 


/T\ilIiF>(^  ii)  po/T)peii. 


^I^^^HILE  visiting  Naples,  last  fall,  I  took  a  great  interest  in  the  wonder- 
^I'fWPtsE    ful   museum   there,  of   obiects  that  have  been  exhumed  from  the 

fi  Ifjp  'if  ruins  of  Pompeii,  It  is  a  remarkable  collection,  including,  among 
-"^^^  J  other  things,  the  cumbersome  machinery  of  a  large  woolen  factory, 
the  receipts,  contracts,  statements  of  sales,  etc.,  etc.,  of  bankers,  brokers,  and 
usui'ers.  I  was  told  that  the  exhumist  also  ran  into  an  Etruscan  bucket-shop 
in  one  part  of  the  city,  but,  owing  to  the  long,  dry  spell,  the  buckets  had  fallen 
to  pieces. 

The  object  which  engrossed  my  attention  the  most,  however,  was  what 
seems  to  have  been  a  circular  issued  prior  to  the  great  volcanic  vomit  of  79 
A.  D.,  and  no  doubt  prior  even  to  the  Christian  era.  As  the  date  is  torn  off, 
however,  we  are  left  to  conjecture  the  time  at  which  it  was  issued.  I  was 
permitted  to  make  a  copy  of  it,  and  with  the  aid  of  my  hired  man,  I  have  trans- 
lated it  with  great  care. 

OFFICE    OF 

LUCEETIUS  &  PKOCALUS, 

dealers  in 

Flour,   Bran,   Shorts,  Middlings,  Screenings,  Etruscan  Hen  Feed,  and 

Other  Choice  Bric-a-beac. 

Highest  Cash  Pi^ice  Paid  for  Neapolitan  Winter  Wheat  ami  Roman  Corn. 

Why  haul  your  Wheat  through  the  sand  to  Herculaneum,  ichen  ive 

pay  the  same  price  here  ? 


Office  and  Mill,  Via  VIII,  near  the  Stabian  Gate,  Only  Thirteen 

Blocks  from  the  P.  O.,  Pompeii. 
Dear  Sir  :  This  circular  has  been  called  out  by  another  one  issued  last 
month  by  Messrs.  Toecorneous  &  Chilblainicus,  alleged  millers  and  wheat  buy- 
ers of  Herculaueum,  in  which  they  claim  to  pay  a  quarter  to  a  half-cent  more 
per  bushel  than  we  do  for  wheat,  and  charge  us  with  docking  the  farmers 
around  Pompeii  a  pound  per  bushel  more  than  necessary  for  cockle,  wild  buck- 
et) 


MILLING   IN   POMPEIL 


41 


wheat,  and  pigeon-grass  seed.  They  make  the  broad  statement  that  we  have 
made  all  our  money  in  that  way,  and  claim  that  Mr.  Lucretius,  of  our  mill,  has 
erected  a  fine  house,  which  the  farmers  allude  to  as  the  "wild  buckwheat  villa." 

We  do  not,  as  a  general  rule,  pay 
any  attention  to  this  kind  of  stufP ;  but  HI  A  C  U  L  A  N  E  U  M 
when  two  snide  romans,  who  went  to 
Herculaneum  without  a  dollar  and 
drank  stale  beer  out  of  an  old  Etrus- 
can tomato-can  the  first  year  they  were 
there,  assail  our  integrity,  we  feel  jus- 
tified in  making  a  prompt  and  final 
reply.  We  desire  to  state  to  the  Ro- 
man farmers  that  we  do  not  test  their 
wheat  with  the  crooked  brass  tester 
that  has  made  more  money  for  Messrs. 
Toecorneous  &  Chilblainicus  than  their 
old  mill  has.  AVe  do  not  do  that  kind 
of  business.  Neither  do  we  buy  a 
man's  wheat  at  a  cash  price  and  then 
work  ofp  four  or  five  hundred  pounds 
of  XXXX  Imperial  hog  feed  on  him 
in  part  payment.  When  we  buy  a 
man's  wheat  we  pay  him  in  money.  We 
do  not  seek  to  fill  him  up  with  sour 
Carthagenian  cracked  wheat  and  orders 
on  the  store. 

We  would  also  call  attention  to  the  improvements  that  we  have  just  made 
in  our  mill.  Last  week  we  put  a  handle  in  the  upper  burr,  and  we  have  also 
engaged  one  of  the  best  head  millers  in  Pompeii  to  turn  the  crank  day-times. 
Our  old  head  miller  will  oversee  the  business  at  night,  so  that  the  mill  will  be 
in  full  blast  night  and  day,  except  when  the  head  miller  has  gone  to  his  meals 
or  stopped  to  spit  on  his  hands. 

The  mill  of  our  vile  contemporaries  at  Herculaneum  is  an  old  one  that  was 
used  around  Naples  one  hundred  years  ago  to  smash  rock  for  the  Neapolitan 
road,  and  is  entirely  out  of  repair.  It  was  also  used  in  a  brick-yard  here  near 
Pompeii ;  then  an  old  junk  man  sold  it  to  a  tenderfoot  fi-om  Jerusalem  as  an 


&^ 


TWO   OLD  ROMANS. 


42 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


ice-cream  freezer.  He  found  that  it  would  not  work,  and  so  used  it  to  grind 
up  potato  bugs  for  blisters.  Now  it  is  grinding  ostensible  flour  at  Herculaneum. 
We  desire  to  state  to  the  farmers  about  Pompeii  and  Herculaneum  that  we 
aim  to  please.  We  desire  to  make  a  grade  of  flour  this  summer  that  will  not 
have  to  be  run  through  the  coffee  mill  before  it  can  be  used.  We  will  also 
pay  you  the  highest  price  for  good  wheat,  and  give  you  good  weight.  Our 
capacity  is  now  greatly  enlarged,  both  as  to  storage  and  grinding.  We  now 
turn  out  a  sack  of  flour,  complete  and  ready  for  use,  every  little  while.  W^e 
have  an  extra  handle  for  the  mill,  so  that  in  case  of  accident  to  the  one  now 
in  use,  we  need  not  shut  down  but  a  few  moments.     We  call  attention  to  our 

XXXX  Git-there  brand  of  flour.  It  is  the  best  flour 
in  the  market  for  making  angels'  food  and  other 
celestial  groceries.  We  fully  warrant  it,  and  will 
agree  that  for  every  sack  containing  whole  kernels 
of  corn,  corncobs,  or  other  foreign  substances,  not 
thoroughly  pulverized,  we  will  refund  the  money 
already  paid,  and  show  the  person  through  our  mill. 
We  would  also  like  to  call  the  attention  of  far- 
mers and  housewives  around  Pompeii  to  our  cele- 
brated Dough  Squatter,  It  is  purely  automatic  in 
its  operation,  requiring  only  two  men  to  work  it. 
With  this  machine  two  men  will  knead  all  the  bread 
they  can  eat  and  do  it  easily,  feeling  thoroughly 
refreshed  at  night.  They  also  avoid  that  dark 
maroon  taste  in  the  mouth  so  common  in  Pompeii 
on  arising  in  the  morning. 

To  those  who  do  not  feel  able  to  bay  one  of  these 
machines,  w^e  would  say  that  we  have  made  arrange- 
ments for  the  approaching  season,  so  that  those  who 
wish  may  bring  their  dough  to  our  mammoth  squat- 
ter and  get  it  treated  at  our  place  at  the  nominal  price  of  two  bits  per  squat. 
Strangers  calling  for  their  squat  or  unsquat  dough,  will  have  to  be  identified. 
iJ^^Do  not  forget  the  place,  Yia  VIII,  near  Stabian  gate. 

Lucretius  &  Procalus, 
Dealers  in  choice  family  flour,  cut  feed  and  oatmeal  with  or  without  clinkers 
in  it.     Try  our  lumpless  bran  for  indigestion. ^^^| 


ANCIENT    ROMAN    MILLER. 


Broi)ef?o  Sam. 


c'f^^l  PEAKING  about  cowboys,  Sam  Stewart,  known  from  Montana  to  Old 
'^^^^^  Mexico  as  Broncho  Sam,  was  the  chief.  He  was  not  a  white  man,  an 
]\^yj  Indian,  a  greaser  or  a  negro,  but  he  had  the  nose  of  an  Indian  warrior, 
^^  the  curly  hair  of  an  African,  and  the  courtesy  and  equestrian  grace  of 
a  Spaniard.  A  wide  reputation  as  a  "broncho  breaker"  gave  him  his  name. 
To  master  an  untamed  broncho  and  teach  him  to  lead,  to  drive  and  to  be  safely 
ridden  was  Sam's  mission  durino^  the  warm  weather  when  he  Avas  not  ridino" 
the  range.  His  special  delight  was  to  break  the  war-like  heart  of  the  vicious 
wild  pony  of  the  plains  and  make  him  the  servant  of  man. 

I've  seen  him  mount  a  hostile  "bucker,"  and,  clinchiusf  his  italic  lecfs 
around  the  body  of  his  adversary,  ride  him  till  the  blood  would  burst  from 
Sam's  nostrils  and  spatter  horse  and  rider  like  rain.  Most  everyone  knows 
what  the  bucking  of  the  barbarous  Western  horse  means.  The  wild  horse 
probably  learned  it  from  the  antelope,  for  the  latter  does  it  the  same  way,  ?'.  c, 
he  jumps  straight  up  into  the  air,  at  the  same  instant  curving  his  back  and 
coming  down  stifP-legged,  with  all  four  of  his  feet  in  a  bunch.  The  concus- 
sion is  considerable. 

I  tried  it  once  myself.  I  partially  rode  a  roan  broncho  one  spring  day, 
which  will  always  be  green  in  my  memory.     The  day,  I  mean,  not  the  broncho. 

It  occupied  my  entire  attention  to  safely  ride  the  cunning  little  beast,  and 
when  he  began  to  ride  me  I  put  in  a  minority  report  against  it. 

I  have  passed  through  an  earthquake  and  an  Indian  outbreak,  but  I  would 
rather  ride  an  earthquake  without  saddle  or  bridle  than  to  bestride  a  successful 
broncho  eruption.  I  remember  that  I  wore  a  large  pair  of  Mexican  spurs,  but 
I  forgot  them  until  the  saddle  turned.  Then  I  remembered  them.  Sitting 
down  on  them  iji  an  impulsive  Avay  l)rought  them  to  my  mind.  Then  the 
broncho  steed  sat  down  on  me,  and  that  gave  the  spurs  an  opportunity  to  make 
a  more  lasting  impression  on  my  mind. 

To  those  who  observed  the  charger  with  the  double  "cinch"  across  his 
back  and  the  saddle  in  front  of  him  like  a  big  leather  corset,  sitting  at  the 

(43) 


44 


EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


same  time  on  my  person,  there  must  have  been  a  tinge  of  amusement;  but  to 
me  it  was  not  so  frolicsome. 

There  may  be  joy  in  a  wild  gallop  across  the  boundless  plains,  in  the  crisp 
morning,  on  the  back  of  a  fleet  broncho ;  but  when  you  return  with  your  ribs 

sticking  through  your  vest,  and  find 
that  your  nimble  steed  has  returned 
to  town  two  hours  ahead  of  you,  there 
is  a  tinge  of  sadness  about  it  all. 

Broncho  Sam,  however,  made  a  spe- 
cialty of  doing  all  the  riding  himself. 
He  wouldn't  enter  into  any  compro- 
mise and  allow  the  horse  to  ride  him. 
In  a  reckless  moment  he  offered  to 
bet  ten  dollars  that  he  could  mount 
and  ride  a  wild  Texas  steer.  The 
money  was  put  up.  That  settled  it. 
Sam  never  took  water.  This  was  true 
in  a  double  sense.  Well,  he  climbed 
the  cross-bar  of  the  corral-gate,  and 
asked  the  other  boys  to  turn  out  their 
best  steer,  Marquis  of  Queensbury 
rules. 

As  the  steer  passed  out,  Sam  slid 
down  and  wrapped  those  parenthet- 
ical legs  of   his   around  that  high- 
headed,  broad-horned  brute,  and  he 
rode  him  till  the  fleet-footed  animal 
fell  down  on  the  buffalo  grass,  ran  his  hot  red  tongue  out  across  the  blue  horizon, 
shook  his  tail  convulsively,  swelled  up  sadly  and  died. 
It  took  Sam  four  days  to  walk  back. 

A  ten-dollar  bill  looks  as  large  to  me  as  the  star  spangled  banner,  some- 
times ;  but  that  is  an  avenue  of  wealth  that  had  not  occurred  to  me. 
I'd  rather  ride  a  buzz-saw  at  two  dollars  a  day  and  found. 


c^(B^^=~-^ 


A  BRONCO    ERUPTION. 


J^ou;  Euolutioi)  EuoIu<^s. 

"tei^HE  following  paper  was  read  by  me  in  a  clear,  resonant  tone  of  voice, 
^]|  ii\v  ^®^°^'^  ^1^®  Academy  of  Science  and  Pugilism  at  Erin  Prairie,  last 
>'•'■  £Ji^i  month,  and  as  I  have  been  so  continually  and  so  earnestly  importuned  to 
^  print  it  that  life  was  no  longer  desirable,  I  submit  it  to  you  for  that 
purpose,  hoping  that  you  will  print  my  name  in  large  caps,  with  astonishers  at 
the  head  of  the  article,  and  also  in  good  display  type  at  the  close: 

SOME  FEATURES  OP  EVOLUTION. 

No  one  could  possibly,  in  a  brief  paper,  do  the  subject  of  evolution  full  justice. 
It  is  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  our  lost  and  undone  race.  It  lies  near  to 
every  human  heart,  and  exercises  a  wonderful  influence  over  our  impulses  and 
our  ultimate  success  or  failure.  When  we  pause  to  consider  the  opaque  and 
fathomless  ignorance  of  the  great  masses  of  our  felloAV  men  on  the  subject 
of  evolution,  it  is  not  surprising  that  crime  is  rather  on  the  increase,  and  that 
thousands  of  our  race  are  annually  filling  drunkards'  graves,  with  no  other 
visible  means  of  support,  while  multitudes  of  enlightened  human  beings  are  at 
the  same  time  obtaining  a  livelihood  by  meeting  with  felons'  dooms. 

These  I  would  ask  in  all  seriousness  and  in  a  tone  of  voice  that  would  melt 
the  stoniest  heart:  "Why  in  creation  do  you  do  it?"  The  time  is  rapidly 
approaching  when  there  will  be  two  or  three  felons  for  each  doom.  I  am  sure 
that  within  the  next  fifty  years,  and  perhaps  sooner  even  than  that,  instead  of 
handing  out  these  dooms  to  Tom,  Dick  and  Hariy  as  formerly,  every  applicant 
for  a  felon's  doom  will  have  to  pass  through  a  competitive  examination,  as  he 
should  do. 

It  will  be  the  same  with  those  who  desire  to  fill  drunkards'  graves.  The 
time  is  almost  here  when  all  positions  of  profit  and  trust  Avill  be  carefully  and 
judiciously  handed  out,  and  those  who  do  not  fit  themselves  for  those  positions 
will  be  left  in  the  lurch,  whatever  that  may  be. 

It  is  with  this  fact  glaring  me  in  the  face  that  I  have  consented  to  appear 
before  you  to-day  and  lay  bare  the  wdiole  hypothesis,  history,  rise  and  fall, 

(45) 


46  EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

modifications,  anatomy,  physiology  and  geology  of  evolution.  It  is  for  this 
that  I  have  poured  over  such  works  as  Huxley,  Herbert  Spencer,  Moses  in  the 
bulrushes,  Anaxagoras,  Lucretius  and  Hoyle.  It  is  for  the  purpose  of  advanc- 
ing the  cause  of  common  humanity  and  to  jerk  the  rising  generation  out  of 
barbarism  into  the  dazzling  effulgence  of  clashing  intellects  and  fermenting 
brains  that  I  have  sought  the  works  of  Pythagoras,  Democritus  and  Epluribus. 
Whenever  I  could  find  any  book  that  bore  upon  the  subject  of  evolution,  and 
could  borrow  it,  I  have  done  so  while  others  slept. 

That  is  a  matter  which  rarely  enters  into  the  minds  of  those  who  go  easily 
and  carelessly  through  life.  Even  the  general  superintendent  of  the  Academy 
of  Science  and  Pugilism  here  in  Erin  Prairie,  the  hotbed  of  a  free  and  untram- 
meled,  robust  democracy,  does  not  stop  to  think  of  the  midnight  and  other 
kinds  of  oil  that  I  have  consumed  in  order  to  fill  myself  full  of  information  and 
to  soak  my  porous  mind  with  thought.  Even  the  O'Eeilly  College  of  this 
place,  with  its  strong  mental  faculty,  has  not  informed  itself  fully  relative  to 
the  great  effort  necessary  before  a  lecturer  may  speak  clearly,  accurately  and 
exhaustingly  of  evolution. 

And  yet,  here  in  this  place,  where  education  is  rampant,  and  the  idea  is 
patted  on  the  back,  as  I  may  say;  here  in  Erin  Prairie,  where  progress  and 
some  other  sentiments  are  wi'itten  on  everything ;  here  where  I  am  addressing 
you  to-night  for  $2  and  feed  for  my  horse,  I  met  a  little  child  with  a  bright 
and  cheerful  smile,  who  did  not  know  that  evolution  consisted  in  a  progress 
fi'om  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous. 

So  you  see  that  you  never  know  where  ignorance  lurks.  The  hydra-headed 
upas  tree  and  bete  noir  of  self-acting  progress,  is  such  ignorance  as  that, 
lurking  in  the  very  shadow  of  magnificent  educational  institutions  and  hard 
words  of  great  cast.  Nothing  can  be  more  disagreeable  to  the  scientist  than 
a  bete  noir.  Nothing  gives  him  greater  satisfaction  than  to  chase  it  up  a  tree 
or  mash  it  between  two  shingles. 

For  this  reason,  as  I  said,  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  address  you  on  the 
subject  of  evolution,  and  to  go  into  details  in  speaking  of  it.  I  could  go  on 
for  hours  as  I  have  been  doing,  delighting  you  with  the  intricacies  and  peculi- 
arities of  evolution,  but  I  must  desist.  It  would  please  me  to  do  so,  and  you 
would  no  doubt  remain  patiently  and  listen,  but  your  business  might  suffer 
while  you  were  away,  and  so  I  will  close,  but  I  hope  that  anyone  now  within 
the  sound  of  my  voice,  and  in  whose  breast  a  sudden  hunger  for  more  light  on 


HOW  EVOLUTION  EVOLVES.  47 

this  great  subject  may  liave  sprung  up,  will  feel  perfectly  free  to  call  on  me 
and  ask  me  about  it  or  immerse  himself  in  the  numerous  tomes  that  I  have 
collected  from  friends,  and  Avhich  relate  to  this  matter. 

In  closing  I  wish  to  say  that  I  have  made  no  statements  in  this  paper  rela- 
tive to  evolution  which  I  am  not  prepared  to  prove ;  and,  if  anything,  I  have 
been  over-conservative.  For  that  reason  I  say  now,  that  the  person  Avho  doubts 
a  single  fact  as  I  have  given  it  to-night,  bearing  upon  the  great  subject  of  evo- 
lution, will  have  to  do  so  over  my  dumb  remains. 

And  a  man  who  will  do  that  is  no  gentleman.  I  presume  that  many  of 
these  statements  will  be  snapped  up  and  sharply  criticised  by  other  theologi- 
ans and  many  of  our  foremost  thinkers,  but  they  will  do  well  to  pause  before 
they  draw  me  into  a  controversy,  for  I  have  other  facts  in  relation  to  evolution, 
and  some  personal  reminiscences  and  family  history,  which  I  am  prepared  to 
inti'oduce,  if  necessary,  together  with  ideas  that  I  have  thought  up  myself.  So 
I  say  to  those  who  may  hope  to  attract  notice  and  obtain  notoriety  by  di'awdng 
me  into  a  controversy,  beware.     It  will  be  to  your  interest  to  beware ! 


J^ours  U/itl;  Qreat  f\\eT). 

PRESUME  that  I  could  write  an  entire  library  of  personal  reminiscences 
relative  to  the  eminent  people  with  whom  I  have  been  thrown  during  a 
busy  life,  but  I  hate  to  do  it,  because  I  always  regarded  such  things  as 
'^  sacred  from  the  vulgar  eye,  and  I  felt  bound  to  respect  the  confidence  of 
a  prominent  man  just  as  much  as  I  would  that  of  one  who  was  less  before  the 
people.  I  remember  very  well  my  first  meeting  with  General  W.  T.  Sherman.  I 
would  not  mention  it  here  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  the  people  seem  to 
be  yearning  for  personal  reminiscences  of  great  men,  and  that  is  perfectly 
right,  too. 

It  was  since  the  war  that  I  met  General  Sherman,  and  it  was  on  the  line  of 
the  Union  Pacific  Railway,  at  one  of  those  justly  celebrated  eating-houses, 
which  I  understand  are  now  abandoned.  The  colored  waiter  had  cut  off  a 
strip  of  the  omelette  with  a  pair  of  shears,  the  scorched  oatmeal  had  been 
passed  around,  the  little  rubber  door  mats  fried  in  butter  and  called  pancakes 
had  been  dealt  around  the  table,  and  the  cashier  at  the  end  of  the  hall  had 
just  gone  through  the  clothes  of  a  party  from  Vermont,  who  claimed  a  rebate 
on  the  ground  that  the  waiter  had  refused  to  bring  him  anything  but  his  bill. 
There  was  no  sound  in  the  dining-room  except  the  weak  request  of  the  coffee 
for  more  air  and  stimulants,  or  perhaps  the  cry  of  pain  when  the  butter,  while 
practicing  with  the  dumb-bells,  would  hit  a  child  on  the  head ;  then  all  would 
be  still  again. 

General  Sherman  sat  at  one  end  of  the  table,  throwing  a  life-preserver  to 
a  fly  in  the  milk  pitcher. 

We  had  never  met  before,  though  for  years  we  had  been  plodding  along 
life's  rugged  way — he  in  the  war  department,  I  in  the  postofiice  department. 
Unknown  to  each  other,  we  had  been  holding  up  opposite  corners  of  the  great 
national  fabric,  if  you  will  allow  me  that  expression. 

I  remember,  as  well  as  though  it  were  but  yesterday,  how  the  conversation 
began.     General  Sherman  looked  sternly  at  me  and  said: 

"I  wish  you  would  overpower  that  butter  and  send  it  up  this  way." 

"All  right,"  said  I,  "if  you  will  please  pass  those  molasses." 

(49) 


HOUES  WITH  GREAT  MEN. 


49 


Qfy^. 


AN  ENCOUNTER  WITH  THE  BUTTER. 


That  was  all  that  was  said,  but  I  shall  never  forget  it,  and  probably  he  never 
will.  The  conversation  was  brief,  but  yet  how  full  of  food  for  thought !  How 
true,  how  earnest,  how 
natural !  Nothing 
stilted  or  false  about 
it.  It  was  the  natural 
expression  of  two 
minds  that  were  too 
great  to  be  verbose 
or  to  monkey  with 
social,  conversational 
flapdoodle. 

I  remember,  once, 
a  great  while  ago,  I 
was  asked  by  a  friend 
to  go  with  him  in  the 
evening  to  the  house 
of  an  acquaintance,  where  they  were  going  to  have  a  kind  of  musicale,  at  which 
there  was  to  be  some  noted  pianist,  who  had  kindly  consented  to  play  a  few 
strains,  I  did  not  get  the  name  of  the  professional,  but  I  went,  and  when  the 
first  piece  was  announced  I  saw  that  the  light  was  very  uncertain,  so  I  kindly 
volunteered  to  get  a  lamp  from  another  room.  I  held  that  big  lamp,  Aveigh- 
ing  about  twenty-nine  pounds,  for  half  an  hour,  while  the  pianist  would  tinky 
tinky  up  on  the  right  hand,  or  bang,  boomy  to  bang  down  on  the  bass,  while 
he  snorted  and  slugged  that  old  concert  grand  piano  and  almost  knocked  its 
teeth  down  its  throat,  or  gently  dawdled  with  the  keys  like  a  pale  moonbeam 
shimmering  through  the  bleached  rafters  of  a  deceased  horse,  until  at  last 
there  was  a  wild  jangle,  such  as  the  accomplished  musician  gives  to  an  instru- 
ment to  show  the  audience  that  he  has  disabled  the  piano,  and  will  take  a  slight 
intermission  while  it  is  sent  to  the  junk  shop. 

With  a  sigh  of  relief  I  carefully  put  down  the  twenty-nine  pound  lamp, 
and  my  friend  told  me  that  I  had  been  standing  there  like  liberty  enlightening 

the  world,  and  holding  that  heavy  lamp  for  Blind  Tom. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * 

I  had  never  seen  him  before,  and  I  slipped  out  of  the  room  before  he  had 
a  chance  to  see  me. 


AM  glad  to  notice  that  iu  the  East  there  is  a  growing  disfavor  in  the 

public  mind  for  selecting  a  practicing  physician  for  the  office  of  coroner. 

This  matter  should  have  attracted  attention  years  ago.  Now  it  gratifies 
^  me  to  notice  a  finer  feeling  on  the  part  of  the  people,  and  an  awakening  of 
those  sensibilities  which  go  to  make  life  more  highly  prized  and  far  more 
enjoyable. 

I  had  the  misfortune  at  one  time  to  be  under  the  medical  charge  of  a  cor- 
oner who  had  graduated  from  a  Chicago  morgue  and  practiced  medicine  along 
■with  his  inquest  business  with  the  most  fiendish  delight.  I  do  not  know  which 
he  enjoyed  best,  holding  the  inquest  or  practicing  on  his  patient  and  getting 
the  victim  ready  for  the  quest. 

One  day  he  wrote  out  a  prescription  and  left  it  for  me  to  have  filled.  I 
was  siu'prised  to  find  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  and  left  a  rough  draft  of  the 
verdict  in  my  own  case  and  a  list  of  jurors  which  he  had  made  in  memorandum, 
so  as  to  be  ready  for  the  worst.  I  was  alarmed,  for  I  did  not  know  that  I  was 
in  so  dangerous  a  condition.  He  had  the  advantage  of  me,  for  he  knew  just 
what  he  was  giving  me,  and  how  long  human  life  could  be  sustained  under  his 
treatment.     I  did  not. 

That  is  why  I  say  that  the  profession  of  medicine  should  not  be  allowed  to 
conflict  with  the  solemn  duties  of  the  coroner.  They  are  constantly  clashing 
and  infringing  upon  each  other's  territory.  This  coroner  had  a  kind  of  tread- 
softly-bow-the-head  way  of  getting  around  the  room  that  made  my  flesh  creep. 
He  had  a  way,  too,  when  I  was  asleep,  of  glancing  hurriedly  through  the  pockets 
of  my*  pantaloons  as  they  hung  over  a  chair,  probably  to  see  what  evidence  he 
could  find  that  might  aid  the  jury  in  arriving  at  a  verdict.  Once  I  woke  up 
and  found  him  examing  a  draft  that  he  had  found  in  my  pocket.  I  asked  him 
what  he  was  doing  with  my  funds,  and  he  said  that  he  thought  he  detected  a 
draft  in  the  room  and  he  had  just  found  out  where  it  came  from. 

(50) 


CONCERNING   CORONERS.  51 

After  that  I  hoped  that  death  would  come  to  my  relief  as  speedily  as  pos- 
sible. I  felt  that  death  would  be  a  happy  release  from  the  cold  touch  of  the 
amateur  coroner  and  pro  tern  physician.  I  could  look  forward  with  pleasure, 
and  even  joy,  to  the  moment  when  my  physician  would  come  for  the  last  time 
in  his  professional  capacity  and  go  to  work  on  me  officially.  Then  the  county 
would  be  obliged  to  pay  him,  and  the  undertaker  could  take  charge  of  the  frag- 
ments left  by  the  inquest. 

The  duties  of  the  physician  are  with  the  living,  those  of  the  coroner  with 
the  dead.  No  effort,  therefore,  should  be  made  to  unite  them.  It  is  in  viola- 
tion of  all  the  finer  feelings  of  humanity.  When  the  jjhysician  decides  that 
his  tendencies  point  mostly  toward  immortality  and  the  names  of  his  patients 
are  nearly  all  found  on  the  moss-covered  stones  of  the  cemetery,  he  may  aban- 
don the  profession  with  safety  and  take  hold  of  politics.  Then,  should  his 
tastes  lead  him  to  the  inquest,  let  him  gravitate  toward  the  office  of  coroner; 
but  the  two  should  not  be  united. 

No  man  ought  to  follow  his  fellow  down  the  mysterious  river  that  defines 
the  boundary  between  the  known  and  the  unknown,  and  charge  him  profes- 
sionally till  his  soul  has  fled,  and  then  charge  a  per  diem  to  the  county  for 
prying  into  his  internal  economy  and  holding  an  inquest  over  the  debris  of 
mortality.  I  therefore  hail  this  movement  with  joy  and  wish  to  encourage  it 
in  every  way.  It  points  toward  a  degree  of  enlightenment  which  will  be  in 
strong  contrast  with  the  darker  and  more  ignorant  epochs  of  time,  Avhen  the 
practice  of  medicine  was  united  with  the  profession  of  the  barber,  the  well- 
digger,  the  farrier,  the  veterinarian  or  the  coroner. 

Why,  this  physician  plenipotentiary  and  coroner  extraordinary  that  I  have 
referred  to,  didn't  know  when  he  got  a  call  whether  to  take  his  morphine  syr- 
inge or  his  venire  for  a  jury.  He  very  frequently  went  to  see  a  patient  with  a 
lung  tester  under  one  arm  and  the  revised  statutes  under  the  other.  People 
never  knew  when  they  saw  him  going  to  a  neighbor's  house,  whether  the  case 
had  yielded  to  the  coroner's  treatment  or  not.  No  one  ever  kne^v  just  when 
over-taxed  nature  would  yield  to  the  statutes  in  such  case  made  and  provided. 

When  the  jury  was  impanelled,  however,  we  always  knew  that  the  medical 
treatment  had  been  successfully  fatal. 

Once  he  charged  the  county  with  an  inquest  he  felt  sure  of,  but  in  the 
night  the  patient  got  delirious,  eluded  his  nurse,  the  physician  and  coroner, 
and  fled  to  the  foot-hills,  where  he  was  taken  care  of  and  finally  recovered. 


52 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


The  experiences  of  some  of  the  patients  who  escaped  from  this  man  read  more 
like  fiction  than  fact.  One  man  revived  during  the  inquest,  knocked  the  fore- 
man of  the  jury  through  the  window,  kicked  the  coroner  in  the  stomach,  fed 
him  a  bottle  of  violet  ink,  and,  with  a  shriek  of  laughter,  fled.  He  is  now 
traveling  under  an  assumed  name  with  a  mammoth  circus,  feeding  his  bald 
head  to  the  African  lion  twice  a  day  at  $9  a  week  and  found. 


Dou/9  East  I^um. 

UM  has  always  been  a  curse  to  the  State  of  Maine.     The  steady  fight 
that  Maine  has  made,  for  a  century  past,  against  decent  rum,  has  been 

^        worthy  of  a  better  cause. 

Who  hath  woe?  who  hath  sorrow  and  some  more  things  of  that 
kind  ?    He  that  monkeyeth  with  Maine  rum ;  he  that  goeth  to  seek  emigrant  rum. 

In  passing  through  Maine  the  tourist  is  struck  with  the  ever-varying  styles 
of  mystery  connected  with  the  consumption  of  rum. 

In  Denver  your  friend  says:  "AVill  you  come  with  me  and  shed  a  tear?" 
or  "Come  and  eat  a  clove  with  me." 

In  Salt  Lake  City  a  man  once  said  to  me:  "William,  which  would  you 
rather  do,  take  a  dose  of  Gentile  damnation  down  here  on  the  corner,  or  go 
over  across  the  street  and  pizen  yourself  with  some  real  old  Mormon  Valley 
tan,  made  last  week  from  ground  feed  and  prussic  acid?"  I  told  him  that  I 
had  just  been  to  dinner,  and  the  doctor  had  forbidden  my  drinking  any  more, 
and  that  I  had  promised  several  people  on  their  death  beds  never  to  touch  liquor, 
and  besides,  I  had  just  taken  a  large  drink,  so  he  would  have  to  excuse  me. 

But  in  Maine  none  of  these  common  styles  of  invitation  prevail.  It  is  all 
shrouded  in  mystery.  You  give  the  sign  of  distress  to  any  member  in  good 
standing,  pound  three  times  on  the  outer  gate,  give  two  hard  kicks  and  one 
soft  one  on  the  inner  door,  give  the  password,  "Rutherford  B.  Hayes,"  turn 
to  the  left,  through  a  dark  passage,  turn  the  thumbscrew  of  a  mysterious  gas 
fixture  90  deg.  to  the  right,  holding  the  goblet  of  the  encampment  under  the 
gas  fixture,  then  reverse  the  thumbscrew,  shut  your  eyes,  insult  your  digester, 
leave  twenty-five  cents  near  the  gas  fixture,  and  hunt  up  the  nearest  cemetery, 
so  that  you  will  not  have  to  be  carried  very  far. 

If  a  man  really  wants  to  drink  himself  into  a  di'unkard's  grave,  he  can  cer- 
tainly save  time  by  going  to  Maine.  Those  desiring  the  most  prompt  and  vig- 
orous style  of  jim-jams  at  cut  rates  will  do  well  to  examine  Maine  goods  before 
going  elsewhere.  Let  a  man  spend  a  week  in  Boston,  where  the  Maine  liquor 
law,  I  understand,  is  not  in  force,  and  then,  with  no  warning  whatever,  be  taken 
into  the  heart  of  Maine ;  let  him  land  there  a  stranger  and  a  partial  orphan, 
with  no  knowledge  of  the  underground  methods  of  securing  a  drink,  and  to 
him  the  world  seems  very  gloomy,  very  sad,  and  extremely  arid. 

(53) 


54 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE, 


At  the  Bangor  depot  a  woman  came  up  to  me  and  addressed  me.  She  was 
rather  past  middle  age,  a  perfect  lady  in  her  manners,  but  a  little  full. 

I  said:  "Madam,  I  guess  you  will  have  to  excuse  me.  You  have  the  advan- 
tage. I  can't  just  speak  your  name  at  this  moment.  It  has  been  now  thirty  years 
since  I  left  Maine,  a  child  two  years  old.  So  people  have  changed.  You've 
no  idea  how  people  have  grown  out  of  my  knowledge,  I  don't  see  but  you 
look  just  as  young  as  you  did  when  I  went  away,  but  I'm  a  poor  hand  to 
remember  names,  so  I  can't  just  call  you  to  mind," 

She  was  perfectly  ladylike  in  her  manner,  but  a  little  bit  drunk.  It  is  sin- 
gular how  drunken  people  will  come  hundreds  of  miles  to  converse  with  me. 
I  have  often  been  alluded  to  as  the  "drunkard's  friend,"  Men  have  been 
known  to  get  intoxicated  and  come  a  long  distance  to  talk  with  me  on  some 
subject,  and  then  they  would  lean  up  against  me  and  converse  by  the  hour,  A 
di'unken  man  never  seems  to  get  tired  of  talking  with  me.  As  long  as  I  am  will- 
ing to  hold  such  a  man  up  and  listen  to  him,  he  will  stand  and  tell  me  about  him- 
self with  the  utmost  confidence,  and, 
no  matter  who  goes  by,  he  does  not 
seem  to  be  ashamed  to  have  people 
see  him  talking  with  me, 

I  once  had  a  friend  who  was  very 
much  liked  by  every  one,  so  he  drifted 
into  politics.  For  seven  years  he  tried 
to  live  on  free  whiskey  and  popular 
approval,  but  it  wrecked  him  at  last. 
Finally  he  formed  the  habit  of  meeting 
rae  every  day  and  explaining  it  to  me,  and  giving  me  free  exhibitions  of  a 
breath  that  he  had  acquired  at  great  expense.  After  he  got  so  feeble  that  he 
could  not  walk  any  more,  this  breath  of  his  used  to  pull  him  out  of  bed  and 
drag  him  all  over  town.  It  don't  seem  hardly  possible,  but  it  is  so.  I  can 
show  you  the  town  yet. 

He  used  to  take  me  by  the  buttonhole  when  he  conversed  with  me.  This  is 
a  diagram  of  the  buttonhole. 

If  I  had  a  son  I  would  warn  him  against  trying  to  subsist  solely  on  popu- 
lar approval  and  free  whiskey.  It  may  do  for  a  man  engaged  solely  in  seden- 
tary pursuits,  but  it  is  not  sufiicient  in  cases  of  great  muscular  exhaustion.  Free 
whiskey  and  popular  approval  on  an  empty  stomach  are  highly  injurious. 


THAT  BUTTONHOLE. 


I^aiju/ay  Etiquette. 

I'aANT  people  have  traveled  all  their  lives  and  yet  do  not  know  how  to 
,^    behave  themselves  when  on  the  road.     For  the  benefit  and  sfuidance 
L-(4-^)/]  \l    of  such,  these  few  crisp,  plain,  horse-sense  rules  of  etiquette  have 
-^e^y^-f^^   l^een  framed. 

In  traveling  by  rail  on  foot,  turn  to  the  right  on  discovering  an  approach- 
ing train.  If  you  wish  the  train  to  turn  out,  give  two  lovid  toots  and  get  in  be- 
tween the  rails,  so  that  you  will  not  muss  up  the  right  of  way.  Many  a  nice, 
new  right  of  way  has  been  ruined  by  getting  a  pedestrian  tourist  spattered  all 
over  its  first  mortgage. 

On  retiring  at  night  on  board  the  train,  do  not  leave  your  teeth  in  the  ice- 
water  tank.  If  every  one  should  do  so,  it  would  occasion  great  confusion  in 
case  of  wreck.  It  would  also  cause  much  annoyance  and  delay  during  the  res- 
urrection. Experienced  tourists  tie  a  string  to  their  teeth  and  retain  them 
during  the  night. 

If  you  have  been  reared  in  extreme  poverty,  and  your  mother  supported 
you  until  you  grew  up  and  married,  so  that  your  wife  could  support  you,  you 
will  probably  sit  in  four  seats  at  the  same  time,  with  your  feet  extended  into 
the  aisles  so  that  you  can  wipe  them  ofp  on  other  people,  while  you  snore  with 
your  mouth  open  clear  to  your  shoulder  blades. 

If  you  are  prone  to  drop  to  sleep  and  breathe  with  a  low  death  rattle,  like 
the  exhaust  of  a  bath  tub,  it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  tie  up  your  head  in  a 
feather  bed  and  then  insert  the  whole  thing  in  the  linen  closet ;  or,  if  you  can- 
not secure  that,  you  might  stick  it  out  of  the  window  and  get  it  knocked  off 
against  a  tunnel.  The  stockholders  of  the  road  might  got  mad  about  it,  l)ut 
you  could  do  it  in  such  a  way  that  they  wouldn't  know  whose  head  it  was. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen  should  guard  against  traveling  by  rail  while  in  a 
beastly  state  of  intoxication. 

the  dining  car,  while  eating,  do  not  comb  your  moustache  with  your 
fork.  By  all  means  do  not  comb  your  moustache  with  the  fork  of  another.  It 
is  better  to  refrain  altogether  from  combing  the  moustache  with  a  fork  while 
traveling,  for  the  motion  of  the  train  might  jab  the  fork  into  your  eye  and  ir- 
ritate it. 

(55) 


56  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

If  your  desert  is  very  hot  and  you  do  not  discover  it  until  you  have  burned 
the  rafters  out  of  the  roof  of  your  moutli,  do  not  utter  a  wild  yell  of  agony  and 
spill  your  coffee  all  over  a  total  stranger,  but  control  yourself,  hoping  to  know 
more  next  time. 

In  the  morning  is  a  good  time  to  find  out  how  many  people  have  succeeded 
in  getting  on  the  passenger  train,  who  ought  to  be  in  the  stock  car. 

Generally,  you  will  find  one  male  and  one  female.  The  male  goes  into  the 
wash  room,  bathes  his  worthless  carcass  from  daylight  until  breakfast  time, 
walking  on  the  feet  of  any  man  who  tries  to  wash  his  face  during  that  time. 
He  wipes  himself  on  nine  different  towels,  because  when  he  gets  home  he 
knows  he  will  have  to  wipe  his  face  on  an  old  door  mat.  People  who  have 
been  reared  on  hay  all  their  lives,  generally  want  to  fill  themselves  full  of  pie 
and  colic  when  they  ti'avel. 

The  female  of  this  same  mammal,  goes  into  the  ladies'  department  and  re- 
mains there  until  starvation  drives  her  out.  Then  the  real  ladies  have  about 
thirteen  seconds  apiece  in  which  to  dress. 

If  you  never  rode  in  a  varnished  car  before,  and  never  expect  to  again,  you 
will  probably  roam  up  and  down  the  car,  meandering  over  the  feet  of  the  por- 
ter wliile  he  is  making  up  the  berths.  This  is  a  good  way  to  let  people  see 
just  how  little  sense  you  had  left  after  your  brain  began  to  soften. 

In  traveling,  do  not  take  along  a  lot  of  old  clothes  that  you  know  you  will 
never  wear. 


,|[^-mENJAMIN  FEANKLIN,  formerly  of  Boston,  came  very  near  being  an 

only  child.     If  seventeen  cliildren  had  not  come  to  bless  the  home  of 

^/    Benjamin's  parents,  they  would  have  been  childless.      Think  of  o-etting 

"^^^^  up  in  the  morning  and  picking  out  your  shoes  and  stockings  from  amono- 
seventeen  pairs  of  them.  Imagine  yourself  a  child,  gentle  reader,  in  a  family 
where  you  would  be  called  upon,  every  morning,  to  select  your  own  cud  of 
spruce  gum  from  a  collection  of  seventeen  similar  cuds  stuck  on  a  window  sill. 
And  yet  B.  Franklin  never 
murmured  or  repined.  He 
desired  to  go  to  sea,  and 
to  avoid  this  he  was  ap- 
prenticed to  his  brother 
James,  who  was  a  printer. 
It  is  said  that  Franklin  at 
once  took  hold  of  the  great 
Archimedean  lever,  and 
jerked  it  early  and  late  in 
the  interests  of  freedom. 
It  is  claimed  that  Frank- 
lin at  this  time  invented 
the  deadly  weapon  known 
as  the  printer's  towel.  He 
found  that  a  common  crash 
towel  could  be  saturated 
with  glue,  molasses,  anti- 
mony,    concentrated    lye, 

T  11  .,•  A   DEADLY   ONSLAUGHT, 

and     roller     composition? 

and  that  after  a  few  years  of  time  and  perspiration  it  would  harden  so  that  the 
"Constant  Eeader"  or  "Veritas"  could  be  stabbed  Avith  it  and  die  soon. 

(57) 


58 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


Many  believe  that  Franklin's  other  scientific  experiments  were  productive  of 
more  lasting  benefit  to  mankind  than  this,  but  I  do  not  agree  with  them. 

This  paper  was  called  the  New  Encjldiid  Courant.  It  was  edited  jointly  by 
James  and  Benjamin  Franklin,  and  was  started  to  supply  a  long-felt  want. 
Benjamin  edited  a  part  of  the  time  and  James  a  part  of  the  time.  The  idea  of 
having  two  editors  was  not  for  the  purpose  of  giving  volume  to  the  editorial 
page,  but  it  was  necessary  for  one  to  ran  the  paper  while  the  other  was  in 
jail.     In  those  days  you  couldn't  sass  the  king,  and  then,  when  the  king  came 

-_^  in  the  office  the  next  day  and 
I  stopped  his  paper,  and  took  out 
his  ad.,  you  couldn't  put  it  off 
on  "our  informant"  and  go 
right  along  with  the  paper.  You 
had  to  go  to  jail,  while  your 
subscribers  wondered  why  their 
paper  did  not  come,  and  the 
paste  soured  in  the  tin  dippers 
in  the  sanctum,  and  the  circus 
passed  by  on  the  other  side. 

How  many  of  us  to-day,  fel- 
low journalists,  would  be  willing 
to  stay  in  jail  while  the  lawn 
festival  and  the  kangaroo  came 
and  went?  Who,  of  all  our 
company,  would  go  to  a  prison 
cell  for  the  cause  of  freedom 
while  a  double-column  ad.  of  sixteen  aggregated  circuses,  and  eleven  congresses 
of  ferocious  beasts,  fierce  and  fragrant  from  their  native  lair,  went  by  us  ? 

At  the  age  of  17,  Ben  got  disgusted  with  his  brother,  and  went  to  Phila- 
delphia and  New  York,  where  he  got  a  chance  to  "sub"  for  a  few  weeks,  and 
then  got  a  regular  "sit."  Franklin  was  a  good  printer,  and  finally  got  to  be  a 
foreman.  He  made  an  excellent  foreman,  sitting  by  the  hour  in  the  composing 
room  and  spitting  on  the  stone,  while  he  cussed  the  make-up  and  press  work 
of  the  other  papers.  Then  he  would  go  into  the  editorial  rooms  and  scare  the 
editors  to  death  with  a  wild  shriek  for  more  copy.  He  knew  just  how  to  con- 
duct himself  as  a  foreman,  so  that  strangers  would  think  he  owned  the  paper. 


STOPPING    HIS    PAPER. 


3.    FRANKLIN,    DECEASED. 


59 


In  1730,  at  the  age  of  24,  Franklin  married  and  established  the  Prnnsjjlva- 
nia  Gazette.  He  was  then  regarded  as  a  great  man,  and  most  everyone  took 
his  paper.  Franklin  grew  to  be  a  great  journalist,  and  spelled  hard  words 
with  great  fluency.  He  never  tried  to  be  a  humorist  in  any  of  his  newspaper 
work,  and  everybody  respected  him. 

Along  about  1746  he  began  to  study  the  construction  and  habits  of  light- 
ning, and  inserted  a  local  in  his  paper,  in  which  he  said  that  he  would  be 
obliged  to  any  of  his  readers  who  might  notice  any  new  or  odd  specimens  of 
lightning,  if  they  would  send  them  into  the  Gazette  office  by  express  for  exam- 
ination. Every  time  there  was  a  thunder  storm,  Franklin  would  tell  the  fore- 
man to  edit  the  paper,  and, 
armed  with  a  string  and  an 
old  fruit  jar,  he  would  go  out 
on  the  hills  and  get  enough 
lightning  for  a  mess. 

In  1753  Franklin  was 
made  postmaster -general  of 
the  colonies.  He  made  a 
good  postmaster-general,  and 
people  say  there  were  less 
mistakes  in  distributing  their 
mail  than  there  has  ever  been 
since.  If  a  man  mailed  a  let- 
ter in  those  days,  old  Ben 
Franklin  saw  that  it  went 
where  it  was  addressed. 

Franklin  frequently  went 
over  to  England  in  those 
days,  partly  on  business,  and  partly  to  shock  the  king.  He  used  to  delight  in 
going  to  the  castle  with  his  breeches  tucked  in  his  boots,  figuratively  speak- 
ing, and  attract  a  good  deal  of  attention.  It  looked  odd  to  the  English,  of 
course,  to  see  him  come  into  the  royal  presence,  and,  leaving  his  wet  umbrella 
up  against  the  throne,  ask  the  king:  "How's  trade?"  Franklin  never  put  on 
any  frills,  but  he  was  not  afraid  of  a  croAvned  head.  He  used  to  say,  fi-equently, 
that  to  him  a  king  was  no  more  than  a  seven  spot. 

He  did  his  best  to  prevent  the  Kevolutionary  war,  but  he  couldn't  do  it, 


"how's  trade?" 


60  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Patrick  Henry  head  said  that  the  war  was  inevitable,  and  given  it  permission  to 
come,  and  it  came.  He  also  went  to  Paris  and  got  acquainted  with  a  few 
crowned  heads  there.  They  thought  a  good  deal  of  him  in  Paris,  and  offered 
him  a  corner  lot  if  he  would  build  there  and  start  a  paper.  They  also  prom- 
ised him  the  county  printing,  but  he  said  no,  he  would  have  to  go  back  to 
America,  or  his  wife  might  get  uneasy  about  him. 

Franklin  wrote  "Poor  Richard's  Almanac"  in  1732-57,  and  it  was  repub- 
lished in  England.  Benjamin  Franklin  had  but  one  son,  and  his  name  was 
William.  William  was  an  illegitimate  son,  and,  though  he  lived  to  be  quite  an 
old  man,  he  never  got  over  it  entirely,  but  continued  to  be  but  an  illegitimate 
son  all  his  life.  Everybody  urged  him  to  do  differently,  but  he  steadily  refused 
to  do  so. 


Cife  Ii^surapee  as  a  j^ealtl?  I^estorer. 


Insurance  is  a  great  tiling 


I  Avould  not  he  without  it.      My  health 
got  my  new  policy.     Formerly  I  used  to 


IFE 

'^    is  greatly  improved  since  I 

have  a  seal-brown  taste  in  my  mouth  when  I  arose  in  the  morning, 
"''^  but  that  has  entirely  disappeared.  I  am  more  hopeful  and  happy,  and 
my  hair  if  getting  thicker  on  top.  I  would  not  try  to  keep  house  without  life 
insurance.  Last  September  I  was 
caught  in  one  of  the  most  destruct- 
ive  cyclones  that  ever  visited  a 
republican  form  of  government. 
A  great  deal  of  property  was  de- 
stroyed and  many  lives  were  lost, 
but  I  was  spared.  People  who  had 
no  insurance  were  mowed  down  on 
every  hand,  but  aside  from  a  broken 
leg  I  was  entirely  unharmed. 

I  look  upon  life  insurance  as  a 
great  comfort,  not  only  to  the  ben- 
eficiary, but  to  the  insured,  who 
very  rarely  lives  to  realize  any- 
thing pecuniarily  from  his  venture. 
Twice  I  have  almost  raised  my 
wife  to  affluence  and  cast  a  gloom 
over  the  community  in  which  I 
lived,  but  something  hapj)ened  to 
the  physician  for  a  few  days  so 
that  he  could  not  attend  to  me,  and  protected  by  life  insurance. 

I  recovered.  For  nearly  two  years  I  was  under  the  doctor's  care.  He  had  his 
finger  on  my  pulse  or  in  my  pocket  all  the  time.  He  was  a  young  western 
physician,  who  attended  me  on  Tuesdays  and  Fridays.  The  rest  of  the  week 
he  devoted  his  medical  skill  to  horses  that  were  mentally  broken  down.     He 

(61) 


62  EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE, 

said  he  attended  me  largely  for  my  society.  I  felt  flattered  to  know  that  he 
enjoyed  my  society  after  he  had  been  thrown  among  horses  all  the  week  that 
had  much  greater  advantages  than  I. 

My  wife  at  first  objected  seriously  to  an  insurance  on  my  life,  and  said  she 
would  never,  never  touch  a  dollar  of  the  money  if  I  were  to  die,  but  after  I 
had  been  sick  nearly  two  years,  and  my  disposition  had  suffered  a  good  deal, 
she  said  that  I  need  not  delay  the  obsequies  on  that  account.  But  the  life  in- 
surance slipped  through  my  fingers  somehow,  and  I  recovered. 

In  these  days  of  dynamite  and  roller  rinks,  and  the  gory  meat-ax  of  a  new 
administration,  we  ought  to  make  some  provision  for  the  future. 


J\)e  Opium  J^abit. 


^  Have  always  had  a  horror  of  opiates  of  all  kinds.     They  are  so  seductive 
and  so  still  in  their  operations.     They  steal  through  the  blood  like  a  wolf 
on  the  trail,  and  they  seize  upon  the  heart  at  last  with  their  Avhite  fangs 
"^   till  it  is  still  forever. 

Up  the  Laramie  there  is  a  cluster  of  ranches  at  the  base  of  the  Medicine 
Bow,  near  the  north  end  of  Sheep  Mountain,  and  in  sight  of  the  glittering, 
eternal  frost  of  the  snowy  range.  These  ranches  are  the  liomes  of  the  young 
men  from  Massachusetts,  Pennsylvania  and  Ohio,  and  now  there  are  several 
"younger  sons"  of  Old  England,  with  herds  of  horses,  steers  and  sheep,  worth 
millions  of  dollars.  These  young  men  are  not  of  the  kind  of  whom  the  met- 
ropolitan ass  writes  as  saying  "youbetcherlife,"  and  calling  everybody  "pard- 
ner."  They  are  many  of  them  college  graduates,  who  can  brand  a  wild  Mave- 
rick or  furnish  the  easy  gestures  for  a  Strauss  waltz. 

They  wear  human  clothes,  talk  in  the  United  States  language,  and  have  a 
bank  account.  This  spring  they  may  be  wearing  chaparajos  and  swinging  a 
quirt  through  the  thin  air,  and  in  July  they  may  be  at  Long  Branch,  or  color- 
ing a  meerschaum  pipe  among  the  Alps. 

Well,  a  young  man  whom  we  will  call  Curtis  lived  at  one  of  these  ranches 
years  ago,  and,  though  a  quiet,  mind-your-own-business  fellow,  who  had  abso- 
lutely no  enemies  among  his  companions,  he  had  the  misfortvme  to  incur  the 
wrath  of  a  tramp  sheep-herder,  who  waylaid  Curtis  one  afternoon  and  shot  him 
dead  as  he  sat  in  his  buggy.  Curtis  wasn't  armed.  He  didn't  dream  of  trou- 
ble till  he  drove  home  from  town,  and,  as  he  passed  through  the  gates  of  a 
corral,  saw  the-hairy  face  of  the  herder,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  flash  of  a 
Winchester  rifle.     That  was  all. 

A  rancher  came  into  town  and  telegraphed  to  Curtis'  father,  and  then  a 
half  dozen  citizens  went  out  to  help  capture  the  herder,  who  had  fled  to  the 
sage  brush  of  the  foot-hills. 

They  didn't  get  back  till  toward  daybreak,  but  they  brought  the  herder 

(63) 


64  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

with  them.     I  saw  him  in  the  gray  of  the  morning,  lying  in  a  coarse  gray 
blanket,  on  the  floor  of  the  engine  house.     He  was  dead. 

I  asked,  as  a  reporter,  how  he  came  to  his  death,  and  they  told  me — opium ! 
I  said,  did  I  understand  you  to  say  "ropium?"  They  said  no,  it  was  opium. 
The  murderer  had  taken  poison  when  he  found  that  escape  was  impossible. 

I  was  present  at  the  inquest,  so  tliat  I  could  report  the  case.  There  was 
very  little  testimony,  but  all  the  evidence  seemed  to  point  to  the  fact  that  life 
was  extinct,  and  a  verdict  of  death  by  his  own  hand  was  rendered. 

It  was  the  first  opium  work  I  had  ever  seen,  and  it  aroused  my  curiosity. 
Death  by  opium,  it  seems,  leaves  a  dark  purple  ring  around  the  neck.  I  did 
not  know  this  before.  People  who  die  by  opium  also  tie  their  hands  together 
before  they  die.  This  is  one  of  the  eccentricities  of  opium  poisoning  that  I 
have  never  seen  laid  down  in  the  books.  I  bequeath  it  to  medical  science. 
Whenever  I  run  up  against  a  new  scientific  discovery,  I  just  hand  it  right  over 
to  the  public  without  cost. 

Ever  since  the  above  incident,  I  have  been  very  apprehensive  about  people 
who  seem  to  be  likely  to  form  the  opium  habit.  It  is  one  of  the  most  deadly 
of  narcotics,  especially  in  a  new  country.  High  up  in  the  pure  mountain 
atmosphere,  this  man  could  not  secure  enough  air  to  prolong  life,  and  he 
expired.  In  a  land  where  clear,  crisp  air  and  delightful  scenery  are  abundant, 
he  turned  his  back  upon  them  both  and  passed  away.  Is  it  not  sad  to  contem- 
plate ? 


/T\or(^  pat(^r9al  (5orr(^spo9d<^9(;(^. 


Y  DEAK  SON.^ — I  tried  to  write  to  you  last  week,  but  didn't  get 
<i , ;   y/,  1 :    around  to  it,  owing  to  circumstances,     I  went  away  on  a  little  busi- 
ij  1(44)0  \    ness  tower  for  a  few  days  on  the  cars,  and  then  when  I  got  home 
--cri^c^s^     the  sociable  broke  loose  in  our  onct  happy  home. 

While  on  my  commercial  tower  down  the  Omeliaw  railroad  buying  a  new 
well-diggin'  machine  of  which  I  had  heard  a  good  deal  pro  and  con,  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  riding  on  one  of  them  sleeping-cars  that  we  read  so  much  about. 

I  am  going  on  50  years  old,  and  that's  the  first  time  I  ever  sluml:)ered  at 
the  rate  of  forty-five  miles  per  hour,  including  stops. 

I  got  acquainted  with  the  porter,  and  he  blacked  my  boots  in  the  night  unbe- 
knownst to  me,  while  I  was  engaged  in  slumber.  He  must  have  thought  that  I 
was  your  father,  and  that  we  rolled  in  luxury  at  home  all  the  time,  and  that  it  was 
a  common  thing  for  us  to  have  our  boots  blacked  by  menials.  When  I  left  the 
car  this  porter  brushed  my  clothes  till  the  hot  flashes  ran  up  my  spinal  column, 
and  I  told  him  that  he  had  treated  me  square,  and  I  rung  his  hand  when  he 
held  it  out  toards  me,  and  I  told  him  that  at  any  time  he  wanted  a  good,  cool 
drink  of  buttermilk,  to  just  holler  through  our  telephone.  We  had  the  sociable 
at  our  house  last  week,  and  when  I  got  home  your  mother  set  me  right  to  work 
borryin'  chairs  and  dishes.  She  had  solicited  some  cakes  and  other  things.  I 
don't  know  whether  you  are  on  the  skedjule  by  which  these  sociables  are  run 
or  not.     The  idea  is  a  novel  one  to  me. 

The  sisters  in  our  set,  onct  in  so  often,  turn  their  houses  wrong  side  out  for 
the  purpose  of  raising  four  dollars  to  apply  on  the  church  debt.  When  I  was 
a  boy  we  worshiped  with  less  frills  than  they  do  now.  Now  it  seems  that  the 
debt  is  a  part  of  the  worship. 

Well,  we  had  a  good  time  and  used  up  150  cookies  in  a  short  time.  Part 
of  these  cookies  was  devoured  and  the  balance  was  trod  into  our  all-wool  car- 
pet. Several  of  the  young  people  got  to  playing  Copenhagen  in  the  setting- 
room  and  stepped  on  the  old  cat  in  such  a  way  as  to  disfigure  him  for  life. 
They  also  had  a  disturbance  in  the  front  room  and  knocked  off  some  of  the  plas- 

(65) 


66 


REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


tering.  So  your  mother  is  feeling  slim  and  I  am  not  very  chipper  myself.  I  hope 
that  you  are  working  hard  at  your  books  so  that  you  will  be  an  ornament  to 
society.     Society  is  needing  some  ornaments  very  much.     I  sincerely  hope 


ROUGH    ON    THE    OLD    CAT. 

that  you  will  not  begin  to  monkey  with  rum.  I  should  hate  to  have  you  meet 
with  a  felon's  doom  or  fill  a  drunkard's  grave.  If  anybody  has  got  to  fill  a 
drunkard's  grave,  let  him  do  it  himself.  What  has  the  drunkard  ever  done 
for  you,  that  you  should  fill  his  grave  for  him  ? 

I  expect  you  to  do  right,  as  near  as  possible.     You  will  not  do  exactly  right 
all  the  time,  but  try  to  strike  a  good  average.     I  do  not  expect  you  to  let  your 


MORE   PATERNAL   CORRESPONDENCE.  67 

studies  encroach  too  much  on  your  polo,  but  try  to  unite  the  two  so  that  you 
will  not  break  down  under  the  strain.  I  should  feel  sad  and  mortified  to  have 
you  come  home  a  physical  wreck.  I  think  one  physical  wreck  in  a  family  is 
enough,  and  I  am  rapidly  getting  where  I  can  do  the  entire  physical  wreck 
business  for  our  neighborhood. 

I  see  by  your  picture  that  you  have  got  one  of  them  pleated  coats  with  a 
belt  around  it,  and  short  pants.  They  make  you  look  as  you  did  when  I  used 
to  spank  you  in  years  gone  by,  and  I  feel  tlie  same  old  desire  to  do  it  now  that  I 
did  then.  Old  and  feeble  as  I  am,  it  seems  to  me  as  though  I  could  spank  a 
boy  that  wears  knickerbocker  pants  buttoned  onto  a  Garal^aldy  waist  and  a 
pleated  jacket.  If  it  wasn't  for  them  cute  little  camel's  hair  whiskers  of  yours  I 
would  not  believe  that  you  had  grown  to  be  a  large,  expensive  boy,  grown  up  with 
thoughts.  Some  of  the  thoughts  you  express  in  your  letters  are  far  beyond 
your  years.  Do  you  think  them  yourself,  or  is  there  some  boy  in  the  school 
that  thinks  all  the  thoughts  for  the  rest? 

Some  of  your  letters  are  so  deep  that  your  mother  and  I  can  hardly  grap- 
ple with  them.  One  of  them,  especially,  was  so  full  of  foreign  stuff  that  you 
had  got  out  of  a  bill  of  fare,  that  we  will  have  to  wait  till  you  come  home 
before  we  can  take  it  in.  I  can  talk  a  little  Chippewa,  but  that  is  all  the  for- 
eign language  I  am  familiar  with.  Wlien  I  was  young  we  had  to  get  our 
foreign  languages  the  best  we  could,  so  I  studied  Chippewa  without  a  master. 
A  Chippewa  chief  took  me  iiito  his  camp  and  kept  me  there  for  some 
time  while  I  acquired  his  language.  He  became  so  much  attached  to  me  that 
I  had  great  difficulty  in  coming  away.  I  wish  you  would  write  in  the  United 
States  dialect  as  much  as  possible,  and  not  try  to  paralize  your  parents  with 
imported  expressions  that  come  too  high  for  poor  people. 

Remember  that  you  are  the  only  boy  we've  got,  and  we  are  only  going 
through  the  motions  of  living  here  for  your  sake.  For  us  the  day  is  wearing 
out,  and  it  is  now  way  long  into  the  shank  of  the  evening.  All  we  ask  of  you 
is  to  improve  on  the  old  people.  You  can  see  where  I  fooled  myself,  and  you 
can  do  better.  Read  and  write,  and  sifer,  and  polo,  and  get  noUedge,  and 
try  not  to  be  ashamed  of  your  uncultivated  parents. 

When  you  get  that  checkered  little  sawed-off  coat  on,  and  that  paii-  of  knee 
panties,  and  that  poker-dot  necktie,  and  the  sassy  little  boys  holler  "rats"  when 
you  pass  by,  and  your  heart  is  bowed  down,  remember  that,  no  matter  how  foolish 
you  may  look,  your  parents  will  never  sour  on  you.  Your  Father. 


Ju;o/T\bley'5  Jale. 


45)ppn?H^Y  name  is  Twombley,  G.  O.  P.     Twombley  is  my  full  name  and  I 

•^  I  A  /  1      liave  liad  a  checkered  career.     I  thouoflit  it  Avould  be  best  to  have 

^)ll'v/'-\V'  •  • 

^  ^44-/3  ll    my  career  checked  right  through,  so  I  did  so. 

---<r€p-s-~  jyj-y  iiome  is  in  the  Wasatch  Mountains.     Far  up,  where  I  can 

see  the  long,  green,  winding  valley  of  the  Jordan,  like  a  glorious  panorama 
below  me,  I  dwell.  I  keep  a  large  herd  of  Angora  goats.  That  is  my  busi- 
ness. The  Angora  goat  is  a  beautiful  animal — in  a  picture.  But  out  of  a 
picture  he  has  a  style  of  perspiration  that  invites  adverse  criticism. 

Still,  it  is  an  independent  life,  and  one  that  has  its  advantages,  too. 

When  I  first  came  to  Utah,  I  saw  one  day,  in  Salt  Lake  City,  a  young  girl 
arrive.  She  was  in  the  heyday  of  life,  but  she  couldn't  talk  our  language. 
Her  face  was  oval;  rather  longer  than  it  was  wide,  I  noticed,  and,  though  she 
was  still  young,  there  were  traces  of  care  and  other  foreign  substances  plainly 
written  there. 

She  was  an  emigrant,  about  seventeen  years  of  age,  and,  though  she  had 
been  in  Salt  Lake  City  an  hour  and  a  half,  she  was  still  unmarried. 

She  was  about  the  medium  height,  with  blue  eyes,  that  somehow,  as  you 
examined  them  carefully  in  the  full,  ruddy  light  of  a  glorious  September  after- 
noon, seemed  to  resemble  each  other.     Both  of  them  were  that  way. 

I  know  not  what  gave  me  the  courage,  but  I  stepped  to  her  side,  and  in  a 
low  i'oice  told  her  of  my  love  and  asked  her  to  be  mine. 

She  looked  askance  at  me.  Nobody  ever  did  that  to  me  before  and  lived 
to  tell  the  tale.  But  her  sex  made  me  overlook  it.  Had  she  been  any  other 
sex  that  I  can  think  of,  I  would  have  resented  it.  But  I  would  not  strike  a 
woman,  especially  when  I  had  not  been  married  to  her  and  had  no  right  to 
do  so. 

I  turned  on  my  heel  and  I  went  away.  I  most  always  turn  on  my  heel 
when  I  go  away.  If  I  did  not  turn  on  my  own  heel  when  I  went  away,  whose 
heel  would  a  lonely  man  like  me  turn  upon? 

Years  rolled  by.     I  did  nothing  to  prevent  it.     Still  that  face  came  to  me 

(68) 


I 


twombley's  tale.  69 

in  my  lonely  hut  far  up  in  tlie  mountains.  That  look  still  rankled  in  my 
memory.  Before  that  my  memory  had  been  all  right.  Nothing  had  ever 
rankled  in  it  very  much.  Let  the  careless  reader  who  never  had  his  memory 
rankle  in  hot  weather,  pass  this  by.     This  story  is  not  for  him. 

After  our  first  conversation  we  did  not  meet  again  for  three  years,  and 
then  by  the  merest  accident.  I  had  been  out  for  a  whole  afternoon,  hunting 
an  elderly  goat  that  had  grown  childish  and  irresponsible.  He  had  wandered 
away,  and  for  several  days  I  had  been  unable  to  find  him.  So  I  sought  for 
him  till  darkness  found  me  several  miles  from  my  cabin.  I  realized  at  once 
that  I  must  hurry  back,  or  lose  my  way  and  spend  the  night  in  the  mountains. 
The  darkness  became  more  rapidly  obvious.  My  way  became  more  and  more 
uncertain. 

Finally  I  fell  down  an  old  prospect  shaft.  I  then  resolved  to  remain  where 
I  was  until  I  could  decide  what  was  best  to  be  done.  If  I  had  known  that  the 
prospect  shaft  was  there,  I  would  have  gone  another  way.  There  was  another 
way  that  I  could  have  gone,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  me  until  too  late. 

I  hated  to  spend  the  next  few  weeks  in  the  shaft,  for  I  had  not  locked  up 
my  cabin  when  I  left  it,  and  I  feared  that  someone  might  get  in  while  I  was 
absent  and  play  on  the  piano.  I  had  also  set  a  batch  of  bread  and  two  hens 
that  morning,  and  all  of  these  would  be  in  sad  knead  of  me  before  I  could  get 
my  business  into  such  shape  that  I  could  return. 

I  could  not  tell  accurately  how  long  I  had  been  in  the  shaft,  for  I  had  no 
matches  by  which  to  see  my  watch.     I  also  had  no  watch. 

All  at  once,  someone  fell  down  the  shaft.  I  knew  that  it  was  a  woman, 
because  she  did  not  swear  when  she  landed  at  the  bottom.  Still,  this  could  be 
accounted  for  in  another  way.     She  was  unconscious  when  I  picked  her  up, 

I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  I  was  perfectly  beside  myself,  and  so  was  she. 
I  had  read  in  novels  that  when  a  woman  became  unconscious  people  generally 
chafed  her  hands,  but  I  did  not  know  whether  I  ought  to  chafe  the  hands  of  a 
person  to  whom  I  had  never  been  introduced. 

I  could  have  administered  alcoholic  stimulants  to  her  but  I  had  neglected  to 
provide  myself  with  them  when  I  fell  down  the  shaft.  This  should  be  a  warning 
to  people  who  habitually  go  around  the  country  without  alcoholic  stimulants. 

Finally  she  breathed  a  long  sigh  and  murmured,  "where  am  I?"  I  told 
her  that  I  did  not  know,  but  wherever  it  might  be,  we  were  safe,  and  that  what- 
ever she  might  say  to  me,  I  would  promise  her,  should  go  no  farther. 


70  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Then  there  was  a  long  pause. 

To  encourage  further  conversation  I  asked  lier  if  she  did  not  think  we  had 
been  having  a  rather  backward  spring.  She  said  we  had,  but  she  prophesied 
a  long,  open  fall. 

Then  there  was  another  pause,  after  which  I  offered  her  a  seat  on  an  old 
red  empty  powder  can.  Still,  she  seemed  shy  and  reserved.  I  would  make  a 
remark  to  which  she  would  reply  briefly,  and  then  there  would  be  a  pause  of 
a  little  over  an  hour.     Still  it  seemed  longer. 

Suddenly  the  idea  of  marriage  presented  itself  to  my  mind.  If  we  never 
got  out  of  the  shaft,  of  course  an  engagement  need  not  be  announced.  No  one 
had  ever  plighted  his  or  her  troth  at  the  bottom  of  a  prospect  shaft  before.  It 
was  certainly  unique,  to  say  the  least.     I  suggested  it  to  her. 

She  demurred  to  this  on  the  ground  that  our  acquaintance  had  been  so  brief, 
and  that  we  had  never  been  thrown  together  before.  I  told  her  that  this  would 
be  no  objection,  and  that  my  parents  were  so  far  away  that  I  did  not  think 
they  would  make  any  trouble  about  it. 

She  said  that  she  did  not  mind  her  parents  so  much  as  she  did  the  violent 
temper  of  her  husband. 

I  asked  her  if  her  husband  had  ever  indulged  in  polygamy.  She  replied 
that  he  had,  frequently.  He  had  several  previous  wives.  I  convinced  her 
that  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  and  under  the  Edmunds  bill,  she  was  not  bound  to 
him.     Still  she  feared  the  consequences  of  his  wrath. 

Then  I  suggested  a  desperate  plan.     We  would  elope ! 

I  Avas  now  thirty-seven  years  old,  and  yet  had  never  eloped.  Neither  had 
she.  So,  when  the  first  streaks  of  rosy  dawn  crept  across  the  soft,  autumnal 
sky  and  touched  the  rich  and  royal  coloring  on  the  rugged  sides  of  the  grim 
old  mountains,  we  got  out  of  the  shaft  and  eloped. 


Ot)  (^yeloQes. 


DESIKE  to  state  that  my  position  as  United  States  Cyclonist 
for  this  Judicial  District  is  now  vacant.  I  resigned  on  the 
9th  day  of  September,  A.  D.  1884. 

I  have  not  the  necessary  personal  magnetism  to  look  a 
cyclone  in  the  eye  and  make  it  quail.  I  am  stern  and  even 
haughty  in  my  intercourse  with  men,  but  when  a  Manitoba 
simoon  takes  me  by  the  brow  of  my  pantaloons  and  throws 
me  across  Township  28,  Range  18,  West  of  the  5tli  Principal 
Meridian,  I  lose  my  mental  reserve  and  become  anxious  and 
even  taciturn.  Eor  thirty  years  I  had  yearned  to  see  a  grown  up  cyclone,  of 
the  ring-tail-puller  variety,  mop  up  the  green  earth  with  huge  forest  trees  and 
make  the  landscape  look  tired.  On  the  0th  day  of  September,  A.  D.  1881,  my 
morbid  curiosity  was  gratified. 

As  the  people  came  out  into  the  forest  with  lanterns  and  pulled  me  out  of 
the  crotch  of  a  basswood  tree  with  a  "tackle  and  fall,"  I  remember  I  told  them 
I  didn't  yearn  for  any  more  atmospheric  phenomena.  The  old  desire  for  a 
hurricane  that  would  blow  a  cow  through  a  penitentiary  was  satiated,  I  re- 
member when  the  doctor  pried  the  bones  of  my  leg  together,  in  order  to  kind 
of  draw  my  attention  away  from  the  limb,  he  asked  me  Iioav  I  liked  the  fall 
style  of  Zephyr  in  that  locality. 

I  said  it  was  all  right,  what  there  was  of  it.  I  said  this  in  a  tone  of  bit- 
ter irony. 

Cyclones  are  of  two  kinds,  viz:  the  dark  maroon  cyclone;  and  the  iron 
gray  cyclone  with  pale  green  mane  and  tail.  It  was  the  latter  kind  I  frolicked 
with  on  ths  above-named  date. 

My  brother  and  I  were  riding  along  in  the  grand  old  forest,  and  I  had 
just  been  singing  a  few  bars  from  the  opera  of  "Whoop  'em  Up,  Lizzie  Jane," 
when  I  noticed  that  the  wind  was  beginning  to  sough  through  the  trees.  Soon 
after  that,  I  noticed  that  I  was  soughing  through  the  trees  also,  and  I  am 
really  no  slouch  of  a  sougher,  either,  when  I  get  started. 

(Tl) 


72 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


The  horse  was  hanging  by  the  breeching  from  the  bough  of  a  large  butter- 
nut tree,  Avaiting  for  some  one  to  come  and  pick  him. 

I  did  not  see  my  brother  at  first,  but  after  a  while  he  disengaged  himself 
from  a  rail  fence  and  came  where  I  was  hanging,  wi'ong  end  up,  with  my  per- 
sonal effects  spilling  out  of  my  pock- 
ets. I  told  him  that  as  soon  as  the  wind 
kind  of  softened  down,  I  wished  he 
would  go  and  pick  the  horse.  He  did 
so,  and  at  midnight  a  party  of  friends 
carried  me  into  town  on  a  stretcher.  It 
was  quite  an  ovation.  To  think  of  a 
torchlight  procession  coming  way  out 
there  into  the  woods  at  midnight,  and 
carrying  me  into  town  on  their  should- 
ers in  triumph!  And  yet  I  was  once 
only  a  poor  boy! 

It  shows  what  may  be  accomplished 
by  anyone  if  he  will  persevere  and  in- 
sist on  living  a  different  life. 

The  cyclone  is  a  natural  phenomenon, 
enjoying  the  most  robust  health.  It 
may  be  a  pleasure  for  a  man  with  great 
will  power  and  an  iron  constitution  to  study  more  carefully  into  the  habits  of 
the  cyclone,  but  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  individually,  I  could  worry  along 
some  way  if  we  didn't  have  a  phenomenon  in  the  house  from  one  year's  end 
to  another. 

As  I  sit  here,  with  my  leg  in  a  silicate  of  soda  corset,  and  watch  the  merry 
throng  promenading  dovm.  the  street,  or  mingling  in  the  giddy  torchlight  pro- 
cession, I  cannot  repress  a  feeling  toward  a  cyclone  that  almost  amounts  to 
disgust. 


WAITING  TO  BE  PICKED. 


m  HE  Arabian  language  belongs  to  what  is  called  the  Semitic  or  Shemitic 


family  of  languages,  and,  when  written,  presents  the  appearance  of  a 
general  riot  among  the  tadpoles  and  wrigglers  of  the  United  States. 
"■e^"  The  Arabian  letter  "  jeem"  or  "  jim,"  which  corresponds  with  our  J, 

resembles  some  of  the  spectacular  wonders  seen  by  the  delirium  tremens 
expert.  I  do  not  know  whether  that  is  the  reason  the  letter  is  called  jeem  or 
jim,  or  not. 

The  letter  "sheen"  or  "shin,"  which  is  some  like  our  "sh"  in  its  effect,  is 
a  very  pretty  letter,  and  enough  of  them  would  make  very  attractive  trimming 
for  pantalets  or  other  clothing.  The  entire  Arabic  alphabet,  I  IJiink,  would 
work  up  first-rate  into  trimming  for  aprons,  skirts,  and  so  forth. 

Still  it  is  not  so  rich  in  variety  as  the  Chinese  language.  A  Chinaman  who 
desires  to  publish  a  paper  in  order  to  fill  a  long  felt  want,  must  have  a  small 
fortune  in  order  to  buy  himself  an  alphabet.  In  this  country  Ave  get  a  press, 
and  then,  if  we  have  any  money  left,  Ave  lay  it  out  in  type ;  but  in  China  the 
editor  buys  himself  an  alphabet  and  then  regards  the  press  as  a  mere  annex. 
If  you  go  to  a  Chinese  type  maker  and  ask  him  to  shoAV  you  his  goods,  he  Avill 
ask  you  whether  you  want  a  two  or  a  three  story  alphabet. 

The  Chinese  compositor  spends  most  of  his  time  riding  up  and  doAvn  the 
elevator,  seeking  for  letters  and  dusting  them  off  Avith  a  feather  duster.  In 
large  and  wealthy  offices  the  compositor  sits  at  his  case  Avith  the  copy  before 
him,  and  has  five  or  six  boys  running  from  one  floor  to  another,  bringing  him 
the  letters  of  this  wild  and  peculiar  alphabet. 

Sometimes  they  have  to  stop  in  the  middle  of  a  long  editorial  and  send 
down  to  Hong  Kong  and  have  a  letter  cast  specially  for  that  editorial. 

Chinese  compositors  soon  die  from  heart  disease,  because  they  have  to  run 
up  stall's  and  doAvn  so  much  in  order  to  get  the  different  letters  needed. 

One  large  publisher  tried  to  have  his  case  arranged  in  a  high  building 
without  floors,  so  that  the  compositor  could  reach  each  type  by  means  of  a 
long  pole,  but  one  day  there  was  a  slight  earthquake  shock  that  spilled  the 

(rs) 


74  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

entire  alphabet  out  of  the  case,  all  over  the  floor,  and  although  that  was  ninety- 
seven  years  ago  last  April,  there  are  still  two  bushels  of  pi  on  the  floor  of  that 
ofiice.  The  paper  employs  rat  printers,  and  as  they  have  been  engaged  in 
assorting  and  distributing  this  mass  of  pi,  it  is  called  rat  pi  in  China,  and  the 
term  is  quite  popular. 

When  the  editor  underscores  a  word,  the  Chinese  compositor  charges  $9 
extra  for  italicizing  it.  This  is  nothing  more  than  fair,  for  he  may  have  to  go 
all  over  the  empire,  and  climb  twenty-seven  flights  of  stairs  to  find  the  neces- 
sary italics.  So  it  is  much  more  economical  in  China  to  use  body  type  mostly 
in  setting  up  a  paper,  and  the  old  journalist  will  avoid  caps  and  italics,  unless 
he  is  very  wealthy. 

Arabian  literature  is  very  rich,  and  more  especially  so  in  verse.  How  the 
Aralnan  poets  succeeded  so  well  in  writing  their  verse  in  their  own  language, 
I  can  hardly  understand.  I  find  it  very  difiicult  to  write  poetry  which  will  be 
greedily  snapped  up  and  paid  for,  even  when  written  in  the  English  language; 
but  if  I  had  to  paw  around  for  an  hour  to  get  a  button-hook  for  the  end  of  the 
fourth  line,  so  that  it  would  rhyme  with  the  button-hook  in  the  second  line  of 
the  same  verse,  I  believe  it  would  drive  me  mad. 

The  Arabian  writer  is  very  successful  in  a  tale  of  fiction.  He  loves  to  take 
a  tale  and  re-write  it  for  the  press  by  carefully  expunging  the  facts.  It  is  in 
lyric  and  romantic  writing  that  he  seems  to  excel. 

The  Arabian  Nights  is  the  most  popular  work  that  has  survived  the  harsh 
touch  of  time.  Its  age  is  not  fully  known,  and  as  the  author  has  been  dead 
several  hundred  years,  I  feel  safe  in  saying  that  a  number  of  the  incidents 
contained  in  this  book  are  grossly  inaccurate. 

It  has  been  translated  several  times  with  more  or  less  success  by  various 
writers,  and  some  of  the  statements  contained  in  the  book  are  well  worthy  of 
the  advanced  civilization,  and  wild  word  painting  incident  to  a  heated  presi- 
dential campaign. 


l/ero^a. 


E  arrived  in  Verona  day  before  yesterday.     Most  every  one  lias 
heard  of  the  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona.      This  is  the  place  they 
^,  came  from.      They  have  never  returned.      A'erona  is  not  noted  for 

"^^  J  its  gentlemen  now.  Perhaps  that  is  the  reason  I  was  regarded 
as  such  a  curiosity  when  I  came  here. 

Verona  is  a  good  deal  older  town  than  Chicago,  but  the  two  cities  have 
points  of  resemblance  after  all.  When  the  southern  simoon  from  the  stock 
yards  is  wafted  across  the 


^  ^ 


vinegar  orchards  of  Chi- 
cago, and  a  load  of  Mor- 
mon emiijrants  g-et  out  at 
the  Rock  Island  depot  and 
begin  to  move  around  and 
squirm  and  emit  the  fra- 
grance of  crushed  Limbur- 
ger  cheese,  it  reminds  one 
of  Verona. 

The  sky  is  similar,  too. 
At  night,  when  it  is  rain- 
ing hard,  the  sky  of  Chi- 
cago and  Verona  is  not 
dissimilar.  Chicago  is  the 
largest  place,  however,  and 
my  sympathies  are  with  her.  Verona  has  about  08,000  people  now,  aside  from 
myself.      This  census  includes  foreigners  and  Indians  not  taxed. 

Verona  has  an  ancient  skating  rink,  knoAvn  in  history  as  the  amphitheatre. 
It  is  404i  feet  by  516  in  size,  and  the  wall  is  still  100  feet  high  in  places. 
The  people  of  Verona  wanted  me  to  lecture  there,  but  I  refrained.  I  was 
afraid  that  some  late  comers  might  elbow  their  way  in  and  leave  one  end  of 

(75) 


THE   ODOPi.S    OF   VERONA. 


76 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


the  amphitheatre  open  and  then  there  wouhl  be  a  draft.  I  will  speak  more  fully 
on  the  subject  of  amphitheatres  in  another  letter.  There  isn't  room  in  this  one. 
Verona  is  noted  for  the  Capitular  library,  as  it  is  called.  This  is  said  to 
be  the  largest  collection  of  rejected  manuscripts  in  the  world.  I  stood  in  with 
the  librarian  and  he  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  examine  this  wonderful  store 
of  literary  work.  I  found  a  Virgil  that  was  certainly  over  1,G0()  years  old.  I 
also  found  a  well  preserved  copy  of  "Beautiful  Snow."  I  read  it.  It  was 
very  touching  indeed.  Experts  said  it  was  1,700  years  old,  which  is  no  doubt 
correct.  I  am  no  judge  of  the  age  of  MSS.  Some  can  look  at  the  teeth  of  a 
literary  production  and  tell  within  two  weeks  how  old  it  is,  but  I  can't.     You 

can  also  fool  me  on  the  age  of  wine.  My  rule  used 
to  be  to  observe  how  old  I  felt  the  next  day  and  to 
fix  that  as  the  age  of  the  wine,  but  this  rule  I  find 
is  not  infallible.  One  time  I  found  myself  feel- 
ing the  next  day  as  though  I  might  be  138  years 
old,  but  on  investigation  we  found  that  the  wine 
was  extremely  new,  having  been  made  at  a  drug 
s'ore  in  Cheyenne  that  same  day. 

Looking  these  venerable  MSS.  over,  I  noticed 
that  the  custom  of  writing  with  a  violet  pencil  on 
both  sides  of  the  large  foolscap  sheet,  and  then 
folding  it  in  sixteen  directions  and  carrying  it 
around  in  the  pocket  for  two  or  three  centuries,  is 
not  a  late  American  invention,  as  I  had  been  led  to 
suppose.  They  did  it  in  Italy  fifteen  centuries 
ago.  I  was  permitted  also  to  examine  the  cele- 
brated institutes  of  Gains.  Gains  was  a  poor  penman,  and  I  am  convinced 
from  a  close  examination  of  his  \Fork  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  carrying  his 
manuscript  around  in  his  pocket  with  his  smoking  tobacco.  The  guide  said 
that  was  impossible,  for  smoking  tobacco  was  not  introduced  into  Italy  until  a 
comparatively  late  day.  That's  all  right,  however.  You  can't  fool  me  much 
on  the  odor  of  smoking  tobacco. 

The  churches  of  Verona  are  numerous,  and  although  they  seem  to  me  a 
little  different  from  our  own  in  many  ways,  they  resemble  ours  in  others.  One 
thing  that  pleased  me  about  the  churches  of  Verona  was  the  total  absence  of 
the  church  fair  and  festival  as  conducted  in  America.     Salvation  seems  to  be 


THE  NEXT  MORNING. 


VERONA. 


77 


handed  out  in  Verona  without  ice  cream  and  cake,  and  the  odor  of  sancity  and 
stewed  oysters  do  not  go  inevitably  hand  in  hand.  I  have  ah*eady  been  in  the 
place  more  than  two  days  and  I  have  not  yet  been  invited  to  help  lift  the  old 
church  debt  on  the  cathedral.  Perhaps  they  think  I  am  not  wealthy,  how- 
ever. In  fact  there  is  nothing  about  my  dress  or  manner  that  Avould  betray 
my  wealth.  I  have  been  in  Europe  now  six  weeks  and  have  kept  my  secret 
well.  Even  my  most  intimate  traveling  companions  do  not  know  that  I  am  the 
Laramie  City  postmaster  in  disguise. 

The  cathedral  is  a  most  imposing  and  massive  pile.  I  quote  this  from  the 
guide  book.  This  beautiful  structure  contains  a  baptismal  font  cut  out  of  one 
solid  block  of  stone  and  made  for  immersion,  with  an  inside  diameter  of 
ten  feet.  A  man  nine  feet  high  could  be  baptized  there  without  injury.  The 
Venetians  have  a  great  respect  for  water.  They  believe  it  ought  not  to  be 
used  for  anything  else  but  to  wash  away  sins,  and  even  then  they  are  very  eco- 
nomical about  it. 


There  is  a  nice  picture  here  by  Titian.  It  looks  as  though  it  had  lieen 
left  in  the  smoke  house  900  years  and  overlooked.  Titian  [)ainted  a  great  deal. 
You  find  his  works  here  ever  and  anon.  He  must  have  had  all  he  could  do 
in  Italy  in  an  early  day,  when  the  country  was  new.  I  like  his  pictures  first 
rate,  but  I  haven't  found  one  yet  that  I  could  secure  at  anything  like  a  bej 
rock  price. 


f\  Cireat  dpt^eaual. 


HA  YE  just  received  the  following  letter,  which  I  take  the  liberty  of  pub- 
lishing, in  order  that  good  may  come  out  of  it,  and  that  the  public  gen- 
erally may  be  on  the  watch: 

^^  "William  Nye,  Esq. — Dear  Sir:     There  has  been  a  great  religious 

upheaval  here,  and  great  anxiety  on  the  part  of  our  entire  congregation,  and 
I  write  to  you,  hoping  that  you  may  have  some  suggestions  to  offer  that  we 
could  use  at  this  time  beneficially. 

All  the  bitter  and  irreverent  remarks  of  Bob  Ingersoll  have  fallen  harm- 
lessly upon  the  minds  of  our  people.  The  flippant  sneers  and  wicked  sarcasms 
of  the  modern  infidel,  wise  in  his  own  conceit,  have  alike  passed  over  our  heads 
without  damage  or  disaster.  These  times  that  have  tried  men^s  souls  have 
only  rooted  us  more  firmly  in  the  faith,  and  united  us  more  closely  as  brothers 
and  sisters. 

We  do  not  care  whether  the  earth  was  made 'in  two  billion  years  or  two 
minutes,  so  long  as  it  was  made  and  we  are  satisfied  with  it.  We  do  not  care 
whether  Jonah  swallowed  the  whale  or  the  whale  swallowed  Jonah.  None  of 
these  things  worry  us  in  the  least.  We  do  not  pin  our  faith  on  such  little  mat- 
ters as  those,  but  we  try  to  so  live  that  when  we  pass  on  beyond  the  flood  we 
may  have  a  record  to  which  we  may  point  with  pride. 

But  last  Sabbath  our  entire  congregation  was  visibly  moved.  People  who 
had  grown  gray  in  this  church  got  right  up  during  the  service  and  went  out, 
and  did  not  come  in  again.  Brothers  who  had  heard  all  kinds  of  infidelity 
and  scorned  to  be  moved  by  it,  got  up,  and  kicked  the  pews,  and  slammed  the 
doors,  and  created  a  young  riot. 

For  many  years  we  have  sailed  along  in  the  most  peaceful  faith,  and 
through  joy  or  sorrow  we  came  to  the  church  together  to  worship.  We  have 
laughed  and  wept  as  one  family  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  an  humble 
dignity  and  Christian  style  of  etiquette  have  pervaded  our  incomings  and  our 


outgoings. 


(78) 


A  GREAT  UPHEAVAL.  79 

That  is  the  reason  why  a  clear  case  of  disorderly  conduct  in  our  church  has 
attracted  attention  and  newspaper  comment.  That  is  the  reason  why  we  Avant 
in  some  public  Avay  to  have  the  church  set  right  before  we  suffer  from  unjust 
criticism  and  worldly  scorn. 

It  has  been  reported  that  one  of  the  brothers,  who  is  sixty  years  of  age, 
and  a  model  Christian,  and  a  good  provider,  rose  during  the  first  prayer,  and, 
waving  his  plug  hat  in  the  air,  gave  a  wild  and  blood-curdling  whoop,  jumped 
over  the  back  of  his  pew,  and  lit  out.  While  this  is  in  a  measure  true,  it  is 
not  accurate.  He  did  do  some  wild  and  startling  jumping,  but  he  did  not 
jump  over  the  pew.     He  tried  to,  but  failed.     He  was  too  oltl. 

It  has  also  been  stated  that  another  brother,  who  has  done  more  to  build 
up  the  church  and  society  here  than  any  other  one  man  of  his  size,  threw  his 
hymn  book  across  the  church,  and,  with  a  loud  wail  that  sounded  like  the  word 
"Gosh!"  hissed  through  clenched  teeth,  got  out  through  the  window  and  went 
away.  This  is  overdrawn,  though  there  is  an  element  of  truth  in  it,  and  I  do 
not  try  to  deny  it. 

There  were  other  similar  strong  evidences  of  feeling  throughout  the  congre- 
gation, none  of  which  had  ever  been  noticed  before  in  this  place.  Our  clergy- 
man was  amazed  and  horrified.  He  tried  to  ignore  the  action  of  the  brethren, 
but  when  a  sister  who  has  grown  old  in  our  church,  and  been  such  a  model  and 
example  of  rectitude  that  all  the  girls  in  the  county  were  perfectly  discouraged 
about  trying  to  be  anywhere  near  equal  to  her;  when  she  rose  with  a  wild 
snort,  got  up  on  the  pew  with  her  feet,  and  swung  her  parasol  in  a  way  that 
indicated  that  she  would  not  go  home  till  morning,  he  paused  and  briefly 
wound  up  the  services. 

Of  course  there  were  other  little  eccentricities  on  the  part  of  the  congre- 
gation, but  these  were  the  ones  that  people  have  talked  about  the  most,  and 
have  done  us  the  most  damage  abroad. 

Now,  my  desire  is  that  through  the  medium  of  the  press  you  will  state  that 
this  great  trouble  which  has  come  upon  us,  by  reason  of  which  the  ungodly 
have  spoken  lightly  of  us,  was  not  the  result  of  a  general  tendency  to  dissent 
from  the  statements  made  by  our  pastor,  and  therefore  an  exhibition  of  our 
disa])proval  of  his  doctrines,  but  that  the  janitor  had  started  a  light  fire  in  the 
furnace,  and  that  had  revived  a  large  nest  of  common,  streaked,  hot-nosed 
wasps  in  the  warm  air  pipe,  and  when  they  came  up  through  the  register  and 
united  in  the  services,  there  was  more  or  less  of  an  ovation. 


80  EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Sometimes  Christianity  gets  sluggish  and  comatose,  but  not  under  the  above 
cii'cumstances.  A  man  may  slumber  on  softly  with  his  bosom  gently  rising 
and  falling,  and  his  breath  coming  and  going  through  one  corner  of  his  mouth 
like  the  death  rattle  of  a  bath-tub,  while  the  pastor  opens  out  a  new  box  of 
theological  thunders  and  fills  the  air  full  of  the  sullen  roar  of  sulphurous 
waves,  licking  the  shores  of  eternity  and  swallowing  up  the  great  multitudes 
of  the  eternally  lost ;  but  when  one  little  wasp,  with  a  red-hot  revelation,  goes 
gently  up  the  leg  of  that  same  man's  pantaloons,  leaving  large,  hot  tracks 
whenever  he  stopped  and  sat  down  to  think  it  over,  you  will  see  a  sudden 
awakening:  and  a  revival  that  will  attract  attention. 

I  wish  that  you  would  take  this  letter,  Mr.  Nye,  and  write  something  from 
it  in  your  own  way,  for  publication,  showing  how  we  happened  to  have  more 
zeal  than  usual  in  the  church  last  Sabbath,  and  that  it  was  not  directly  the 
result  of  the  sermon  which  was  preached  on  that  day. 

Youi's,  with  great  respect, 

William  Lemons. 


E\)e  \iJ(^<ip\T}(^  U/omai). 


HAVE  not  written  much  for  publication  lately,  because  I  did  not  feel  -well. 
I  was  fatigued.     I  took  a  ride  on  the  cars  last  week  and  it  shook  me  up  a 
L    good  deal. 

"^^  The  train  was  crowded  somewhat,  and  so  I  sat  in  a  seat  with  a  woman 

who  got  aboard  at  Minkin's  Siding.  I  noticed  as  we  pulled  out  of  Minkin's 
Siding,  that  this  woman  raised  the  window  so  that  she  could  bid  adieu  to  a 
man  in  a  dyed  moustache.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  was  her  dolce  far  niente, 
or  her  grandson  by  her  second  husband.  I  know  that  if  he  had  been  a  relative 
of  mine,  however,  I  would  have  cheerfully  concealed  the  fact. 

She  waved  a  little  2x6  handkerchief  out  of  the  window,  said  "good-bye," 

allowed  a  fresh  zephyr  from  Cape  Sabine 
to  come  in  and  play  a  xylophone  interlude 
on  my  spinal  column,  and  then  burst  into 
a  paroxysm  of  damp,  hot  tears. 

I  had  to  go  into  another  car  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  when  I  returned  a  pugilist  from 
Chicago  had  my  seat.  When  I  trav- 
el I  am  uniformly  courteous,  especially 
to  pugilists,  A  pugilist  who  has  started 
out  as  an  obscure  boy  with  no  money,  no 
friends,  and  no  one  to  practice  on,  except 
his  wife  or  his  mother,  with  no  capital 
aside  from  his  bare  hands ;  a  man  who  has 
had  to  fight  his  way  through  life,  as  it 
were,  and  yet  who  has  come  out  of  obscur- 
ity and  attracted  the  attention  of  the  au- 
thorities, and  won  the  good  will  of  those 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  will  always 
find  me  cordial  and  pacific.  So  I  allowed 
this  self-made  man  with  the  broad,  high, 
intellectual  shoulder  blades,  to  sit  in  my 

(81) 


SHE  SOBBED  SEVERAL  MORE  TIMES. 


82  REMAKKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

seat  witli  his  feet  on  my  new  and  expensive  traveling  bag,  while  I  sat  with 
the  tear-bedewed  memento  from  Minkin''s  Siding. 

She  sobbed  several  more  times,  then  hove  a  sigh  that  rattled  the  windows 
in  the  car,  and  sat  up.  I  asked  her  if  I  might  sit  by  her  side  for  a  few  miles 
and  share  her  great  sorrow.  She  looked  at  me  askance.  I  did  not  resent  it. 
She  allowed  me  to  take  the  seat,  and  I  looked  at  a  paper  for  a  few  moments  so 
that  she  could  look  me  over  through  the  corners  of  her  eyes.  I  also  scrutin- 
ized her  lineaments  some. 

She  was  dressed  up  considerably,  and,  when  a  woman  dresses  up  to  ride  in 
a  railway  train,  she  advertises  the  fact  that  her  intellect  is  beginning  to  totter 
on  its  throne.  People  who  have  more  than  one  suit  of  clothes  should  not  pick 
out  the  fine  raiment  for  traveling  purposes.  This  person  was  not  handsomely 
dressed,  but  she  had  the  kind  of  clothes  that  look  as  though  they  had  tried  to 
present  the  appearance  of  affluence  and  had  failed  to  do  so. 

This  leads  me  to  say,  in  all  seriousness,  that  there  is  nothing  so  sad  as  the 
sight  of  a  man  or  woman  who  would  scorn  to  tell  a  wrong  story,  but  who  will 
persist  in  wearing  bogus  clothes  and  bogus  jewelry  that  wouldn't  fool  anybody. 

My  seat-mate  wore  a  cloak  that  had  started  out  to  bamboozle  the  American 
people  with  the  idea  that  it  was  worth  $100,  but  it  wouldn'  t  mislead  anyone 
who  might  be  nearer  than  half  a  mile.  I  also  discovered  that  it  had  an  air 
about  it  that  would  indicate  that  she  wore  it  while  she  cooked  the  pancakes  and 
fried  the  doughnuts.  It  hardly  seems  possible  that  she  would  do  this,  but 
the  garment,  I  say,  had  that  air  about  it. 

She  seemed  to  want  to  converse  after  awhile,  and  she  began  on  the  subject 
of  literature,  picking  up  a  volume  that  had  been  left  in  her  seat  by  the  train 
boy,  entitled:  "Shadowed  to  Skowhegan  and  Back;  or.  The  Child  Fiend;  price 
$2,"  we  drifted  on  pleasantly  into  the  broad  domain  of  letters. 

Incidentally  I  asked  her  what  authors  she  read  mostly. 

"  O,  I  don't  remember  the  authors  so  much  as  I  do  the  books,"  said  she; 
"I  am  a  great  reader.  If  I  should  tell  you  how  much  I  have  read,  you 
wouldn't  believe  it." 

I  said  I  certainly  would.  I  had  frequently  been  called  upon  to  believe 
things  that  would  make  the  ordinary  rooster  quail. 

If  she  discovered  the  true  inwardness  of  this  Anglo-American  "  Jewdes- 
prit,"  she  refrained  from  saying  anything  about  it. 

"X  read  a  good  deal,"  she  continued,  "and  it  keeps  me  all  strung  up.     I 


THE    WEEPING    WOMAN.  83 

weep,  O  so  easily."  Just  tlieu  she  lightly  laid  her  hand  on  my  arm,  and  I 
could  see  that  the  tears  were  rising  to  her  eyes.  I  felt  like  asking  her  if  she 
had  ever  trietl  running  herself  through  a  clothes  wringer  every  morning?  I 
did  feel  that  someone  ought  to  chirk  her  up,  so  I  asked  her  if  she  remembered 
the  advice  of  the  editor  who  received  a  letter  from  a  young  lady  troubled  the 
same  way.  She  stated  that  she  couldn't  explain  it,  but  every  little  while,  with- 
out any  apparent  cause,  she  would  shed  tears,  and  the  editor  asked  her  why 
she  didn't  lock  up  the  shed. 

We  conversed  for  a  long  time  about  literature,  but  every  little  while  she 
would  get  me  into  deep  water  by  quoting  some  author  or  work  that  I  had  never 
read.  I  never  realized  what  a  hopeless  ignoramus  I  was  till  I  heard  al^out  the 
scores  of  books  that  had  made  her  shed  the  scalding,  and  yet  that  I  had  never, 
never  read.  When  she  looked  at  me  with  that  far-away  expression  in  her 
eyes,  and  with  her  hand  resting  lightly  on  my  arm  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  the 
gorgeous  two  karat  Rhinestone  from  Pittsburg  full  play,  and  told  me  how  such 
works  as  "The  New  Made  Grave;  or  The  Twin  Murderers"  had  cost  her  many 
and  many  a  copious  tear,  I  told  her  I  was  glad  of  it.  If  it  be  a  blessed  boon 
for  the  student  of  such  books  to  weep  at  home  and  work  up  their  honest  per- 
spiration into  scalding  tears,  far  be  it  from  me  to  grudge  that  poor  boon. 

I  hope  that  all  who  may  read  these  lines,  and  who  may  feel  that  the  pores 
of  their  skin  are  getting  torpid  and  sluggish,  owing  to  an  inherited  antipathy 
toward  physical  exertion,  and  who  feel  that  they  would  rather  work  up  their 
perspiration  into  woe  and  shed  it  in  the  shape  of  common  red-eyed  weep,  will 
keep  themselves  to  this  poor  boon.  People  have  different  ways  of  enjoying 
themselves,  and  I  hope  no  one  will  hesitate  about  accepting  this  or  any  other 
poor  boon  that  I  do  not  happen  to  be  using  at  the  time. 


Xl?<?  Qrops. 


HAVE  just  been  through  Iowa,  Minnesota  and  Wisconsin,  on  a  tour  of 
inspection.      I  rode  for  over  ten  days  in  these  States  in  a  sleeping-car, 
examining  crops,  so  that  I  could  write  an  intelligent  report. 
Grain  in  Northern  Wisconsin  suffered  severely  in  the  lat- 
ter part  of  the  season  from  rust,   chintz  bug,   Hessian  fly 
and  trichina.      In  the  St.  Croix  valley  wheat  will  not  average 
a  half  crop.      I  do  not  know  why  farmers  should  insist  upon 
leaving  their  grain  out  nights  in  July,  when  they  know  from 
the  experience  of  former  years  that  it  will  surely  rust. 
In  Southern  Wisconsin  too  much  rain  has  almost  destroyed  many  crops, 
and  cattle  have  been  unable  to  get  enough  to  eat,  unless  they  were  fed,  for 
several  weeks.     This  is  a  sad  outlook  for  the  farmer  at  this  season. 

In  the  northern  part  of  the  State  many  fields  of  grain  were  not  worth  cut- 
ting, while  others  barely  yielded  the  seed,  and  eA^en  that  of  a  very  inferior 
quality. 

The  ruta-baga  is  looking  unusually  well  this  fall,  but  we  cannot  subsist 
entirely  upon  the  ruta-baga.  It  is  juicy  and  rich  if  eaten  in  large  quantities, 
but  it  is  too  bulky  to  be  popular  v»-ith  the  aristocracy. 

Cabbages  in  most  places  are  looking  well,  though  in  some  quarters  I  notice 
an  epidemic  of  worms.  To  successfully  raise  the  cabbage,  it  Avill  be  necessary 
at  all  times  to  be  well  supplied  with  vermifuge  that  can  be  readily  administered 
at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night. 

The  crook-neck  squash  in  the  Northwest  is  a  great  success  this  season. 
And  what  can  be  more  beautiful,  as  it  calmly  lies  in  its  bower  of  green  vines 
in  the  crisp  and  golden  haze  of  autumn,  than  the  cute  little  crook-neck  squash, 
with  yellow,  warty  skin,  all  cuddled  up  together  in  the  cool  morning,  like  the 
discarded  wife  of  an  old  Mormon  elder — his  first  attempt  in  the  matrimonial 
line,  so  to  speak,  ere  he  had  gained  wisdom  by  experience. 

The  full-di'ess,  low-neck-and-short-sleeve  summer  squash  will  be  worn  as 
usual  this  fall,  Avith  trimmings  of  salt  and  pepper  in  front  and  re  vers  of  butter 
doAvn  the  back. 

(84) 


THE    CROPS. 


85 


N.  B. — It  will  not  be  used  much  as  an  outside  -wi'ap,  but  will  be  worn 
mostly  inside. 

Hop-poles  in  some  parts  of  Wisconsin  are  entirely  killed.  I  suppose  that 
continued  dry  weather  in  the  early  summer  did  it. 

Hop-lice,  however,  are  looking  well.  Many  of  our  best  hop-breeders 
thought  that  when  the  hop-pole  began  to  wither  and  die,  the  hop-louse  could 
not  survive  the  intense  dry  heat ;  but  hop-lice  have  never  looked  better  in  this 
State  than  they  do  this  fall. 

I  can  remember  very  well  when  Wisconsin  had  to  send  to  Ohio  for  hop- lice. 
Now  she  could  almost  supply  Ohio  and  still  have  enough  to  fill  her  own  coffers. 


ENJOYING    HIMSELF  AT    THE    DANCE. 

I  do  not  know  that  hop-lice  are  kept  in  coffers,  and  I  may  be  wrong  in 
speaking  thus  freely  of  these  two  subjects,  never  having  seen  either  a  hop-louse 
or  a  coffer,  but  I  feel  that  the  public  must  certainly  and  naturally  expect  me 
to  say  something  on  these  subjects.  Fruit  in  the  Northwest  this  season  is  not 
a  great  success.     Aside  from  the  cranberry  and  choke-cherry,  the  fruit  yield 


8G 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


in  the  northern  district  is  light.  The  early  dwarf  crab,  -with  or  without  worms, 
as  desired— but  mostly  with — is  unusually  poor  this  fall.  They  make  good 
cider.  This  cider  when  put  into  a  brandy  flask  that  Jias  not  been  drained  too 
dry,  and  allowed  to  stand  until  Christmas,  puts  a  great  deal  of  expression  into 
a  country  dance.  I  have  tried  it  once  myself,  so  that  I  could  write  it  up  for 
your  valuable  paper. 

People  who  were  present  at  that  dance,  and  who  saw  me  frolic  around  there 
like  a  thing  of  life,  say  that  it  was  well  worth  the  price  of  admission.  Stone 
fence  always  Hies  right  to  the  weakest.  sj)ot.  So  it  goes  right  to  my  head  and 
makes  me  eccentric. 

The  violin  virtuoso  who  "fiddled,"  "called  off"  and  acted  as  justice  of  the 
peace  that  evening,  said  that  I  threw  aside  all  reserve  and  entered  with  great 
zest  into  the  dance,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  it  much  better  than  those  who  danced 
in  the  same  set  with  me.  Since  that,  the  very  sight  of  a  common  crab  apple 
makes  my  head  reel.  I  learned  afterward  that  this  cider  had  frozen,  so  that 
the  alleged  cider  which  we  drank  that  night  was  the  clear,  old-fashioned  brandy, 
which  of  course  would  not  fi'eeze. 

AVe  should  strive,  however,  to  lead  bJch  lives  that  we  will  never  be  ashamed 
to  look  a  cider  barrel  square  in  the  bung. 


yterary  preal^s. 


[(»€\EOPLE  wlio  write  for  a  livelihood  get  some  queer  propositions  from 

M   those  who  have  crude  ideas  about  the  operation  of  the  literary  machine. 

)t     There  is  a  prevailing  idea  among  those  who  have  never  dabbled  in 
^     literature  very  much,  that  the  divine  afflatus  works  a  good  deal  like  a 
corn  sheller.     This  is  erroneous. 

To  put  a  bushel  of  words  into  the  hopper  and  have  them  come  out  a  poem 
or  a  sermon,  is  a  more  complicated  process  than  it  would  seem  to  the  casual 
observer. 

I  can  hardly  be  called  literary,  though  I  admit  that  my  tastes  lie  in  that 
direction,  and  yet  I  have  had  some  singidar  experiences  in  that  line.  For 
instance,  last  year  I  received  flattering  overtures  from  three  young  men  who 
wanted  me  to  write  speeches  for  them  to  deliver  on  the  Fourth  of  July.  They 
could  do  it  themselves,  but  hadn't  the  time.  If  I  would  write  the  speeches 
they  would  be  willing  to  revise  them.  They  seemed  to  think  it  would  be  a 
good  idea  to  write  the  speeches  a  little  longer  than  necessary  and  then  the 
poorer  parts  of  the  effort  could  be  cut  out.  Various  prices  were  set  on  these 
efforts,  fi-om  a  dollar  to  "the  kindest  regards."  People  who  have  squeezed 
through  one  of  our  adult  winters  in  this  latitude,  subsisting  on  kind  regards, 
will  please  communicate  with  the  writer,  stating  how  they  like  it. 

One  gentleman,  who  was  in  the  confectionery  business,  wanted  a  lot  of 
"humorous  notices  wrote  for  to  put  into  conversation  candy."  It  was  a  big 
temptation  to  write  something  tliat  would  be  in  every  lady's  mouth,  but  I 
refrained.  Writing  gum  drop  epitaphs  may  properly  belong  to  the  domain  of 
literature,  but  I  doubt  it.  Surely  I  do  not  want  to  be  haughty  and  above  my 
business,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  this  is  irrelevant. 

Another  man  wanted  me  to  Avrite  a  "piece  for  his  boy  to  speak,"  and  if  I 
would  do  so,  I  could  come  to  his  house  some  Saturday  night  and  stay  over  Sun- 
day. He  said  that  the  boy  was  "a  perfect  little  case  to  carry  on  and  folks 
didn't  know  whether  he  would  develop  into  a  condemb  fool  or  a  youmerist."    So 

(S7) 


88 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


and  a  motto  to  emblazon  on  his  arms. 


he  wanted  a  piece  of  one  of  them  tomfoolery  kind  for  the  little  cuss  to  speak 
the  last  day  of  school. 

A  coal  dealer  who  had  risen  to  aflfluence  by  selling  coal  to  the  poor  by 
apothecaries'  weight,  wrote  to  ask  me  for  a  design  to  be  used  as  a  family  crest 

I  told  him  I  had  run  out  of  crests,  but 
that  "weight  for  the  wagon,  we'll  all 
take  a  ride,"  would  be  a  good  motto;  or 
he  might  use  the  following:  " The  fuel 
and  his  money  are  soon  parted."  He 
might  emblazon  this  on  his  arms,  or 
tattoo  it  on  any  other  part  of  his  sys- 
tem where  he  thoufjht  it  would  be 
becoming  to  his  complexion.  I  never 
heard  from  him  again,  and  I  do  not 
know  whether  he  was  offended  or  not. 
Two  young  men  in  Massachusetts 
wrote  me  a  letter  in  which  they  said 
they  "had  a  good  thing  on  mother." 
They  wanted  it  written  up  in  a  face- 
tious vein.  They  said  that  their  father 
had  been  on  the  coast  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore, engaged  in  the  eeling  industry. 
Being  a  good  man,  but  partially  full, 
he  had  mingled  himself  in  the  flowing  tide  and  got  drowned.  Finally,  after 
several  days'  search,  the  neighbors  came  in  sadly  and  told  the  old  lady  that 
they  had  found  all  that  was  mortal  of  James,  and  there  were  two  eels  in  the 
remains.  They  asked  for  further  instructions  as  to  deceased.  The  old  lady 
swabbed  out  her  weeping  eyes,  braced  herself  against  the  sink  and  told  the 
men  to  "bring  in  the  eels  and  set  him  again." 

The  boys  thought  that  if  this  could  be  properly  written  up,  "it  would  be 
a  mighty  good  joke  on  mother."  I  was  greatly  shocked  when  I  received  this 
letter.  It  seemed  to  me  heartless  for  young  men  to  speak  lightly  of  their 
widowed  mother's  great  woe.  I  wrote  them  how  I  felt  about  it,  and  rebuked 
them  severely  for  treating  their  mother's  grief  so  lightly.  Also  for  trying  to 
impose  upon  me  with  an  old  chestnut. 


HIS    MOTTO. 


f\  patl7(?r's  f\d\j\(;<^  to  f^is  S09. 

^M-M'^Y  DEAE  HENEY.— Your  pensive  favor  of  the  20tli  inst.,  asking  for 
A|/  \/ ,U  more  means  witli  wliich  to  persecute  your  studies,  and  also  a  young 
liJ_—_±^   man  from  Oliio,  is  at  hand  and  carefully  noted. 

I  would  not  be  ashamed  to  have  you  show  the  foregoing  sentence 
to  your  teacher,  if  it  could  be  worked,  in  a  quiet  way,  so  as  not  to  look  egotis- 
tic on  my  part.  I  think  myself  that  it  is  pretty  fair  for  a  man  that  never  had 
any  advantages. 

But,  Henry,  why  will  you  insist  on  jSghting  the  young  man  from  Ohio  ?  It  is 
not  only  rude  and  wrong,  but  you  invariably  get  licked.  There's  where  the 
enormity  of  the  thing  comes  in. 

It  was  this  young  man  from  Ohio,  named  Williams,  that  you  hazed  last 
year,  or  at  least  that's  what  I  gether  from  a  letter  sent  me  by  your  warden. 
He  maintains  that  you  started  in  to  mix  Mr.  Williams  up  with  the  campus  in 
some  way,  and  that  in  some  way  Mr.  Williams  resented  it  and  got  his  fangs 
tangled  up  in  the  bridge  of  your  nose. 

You  never  wrote  this  to  me  or  to  your  mother,  biit  I  know  how  busy  you 
are  with  your  studies,  and  I  hope  you  won't  ever  neglect  your  books  just  to 
write  to  us. 

Your  warden,  or  whoever  he  is,  said  that  Mr.  Williams  also  hung  a  hand- 
painted  marine  view  over  your  eye  and  put  an  extra  eyelid  on  one  of  your  ears. 

I  wish  that,  if  you  get  time,  you  w^ould  write  us  about  it,  because,  if  there's 
anything  I  can  do  for  you  in  the  arnica  line,  I  would  be  pleased  to  do  so. 

The  president  also  says  that  in  the  scuffle  you  and  Mr.  Williams  swapped 
belts  as  follows,  to-wit :  That  Williams  snatched  off  the  belt  of  your  little  Nor- 
folk jacket,  and  then  gave  you  one  in  the  eye. 

From  this  I  gether  that  the  old  prez,  as  you  faseshusly  call  him,  is  an  you- 
morist.  He  is  not  a  very  good  penman,  however ;  though,  so  far,  his  words 
have  all  been  spelled  correct. 

I  would  hate  to  see  you  permanently  injured,  Henry,  but  I  hope  that  when 
you  try  to  tramp  on  the  toes  of  a  good  boy  simply  because  you  are  a  seanyour 

(89) 


90  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

and  lie  is  a  fresh,  as  you  frequently  state,  that  he  will  arise  and  rip  your  little 
pleated  jacket  up  the  back  and  make  your  spinal  colyum  look  like  a  corderoy 
bridge  in  the  spring  tra  la.      (This  is  from  a  Japan  show  I  was  to  last  week.) 

Why  should  a  seanyour  in  a  colledge  tromp  onto  the  young  chaps  that 
come  in  there  to  learn?  Have  you  forgot  how  I  fatted  up  the  old  cow  and 
beefed  her  so  that  you  could  go  and  monkey  with  youclid  and  algebray  ?  Have 
you  forgot  how  the  other  boys  pulled  you  through  a  mill  pond  and  made  you 
tobogin  down  hill  in  a  salt  barrel  with  brads  in  it?  Do  you  remember  how 
your  mother  went  down  there  to  nuss  you  for  two  weeks  and  I  stayed  to  home, 
and  done  my  own  work  and  the  housework  too  and  cooked  my  own  vittles  for 
the  whole  two  weeks? 

And  now,  Henry,  you  call  yourself  a  seanyour,  and  therefore,  because  you 
are  simply  older  in  crime,  you  want  to  muss  up  Mr.  Williams's  features  so 
that  his  mother  will  have  to  come  over  and  nuss  him.  I  am  glad  that  your  little 
pleated  coat  is  ripped  up  the  back,  Henry,  under  the  circumstances,  and  I  am 
also  glad  that  you  are  wearing  the  belt — over  your  off  eye.  If  there's  any- 
thing I  can  do  to  add  to  the  hilarity  of  the  occasion,  please  let  me  know  and  I 
will  tend  to  it. 

The  lop-horned  heifer  is  a  parent  once  more,  and  I  am  trying  in  my  poor, 
weak  way  to  learn  her  wayward  offspring  how  to  drink  out  of  a  patent  pail 
without  pushing  your  old  father  over  into  the  hay-mow.  He  is  a  cute  little 
quadruped,  with  a  wild  desire  to  have  fun  at  my  expense.  He  loves  to  swaller 
a  part  of  my  coat-tail  Sunday  morning,  when  I  am  dressed  up,  and  then  return 
it  to  me  in  a  moist  condition.  He  seems  to  know  that  when  I  address  the  sab- 
bath school  the  children  will  see  the  joke  and  enjoy  it. 

Your  mother  is  about  the  same,  trying  in  her  meek  way  to  adjust  herself 
to  a  new  set  of  teeth  that  are  a  size  too  large  for  her.  She  has  one  large  bun- 
ion in  the  roof  of  her  mouth  already,  but  is  still  resolved  to  hold  out  faithful, 
and  hopes  these  few  lines  will  find  you  enjoying  the  same  great  blessing, 

Tou  will  find  inclosed  a  dark-blue  money -order  for  four  eighty -five.  It  is 
money  that  I  had  set  aside  to  pay  my  taxes,  but  there  is  no  novelty  about  pay- 
ing taxes,     I've  done  that  before,  so  it  don't  thrill  me  as  it  used  to. 

Give  my  congratulations  to  Mr,  Williams.  He  has  got  the  elements  of 
greatness  to  a  wonderful  degree.  If  I  happened  to  be  participating  in  that 
colledge  of  yours,  I  would  gently  but  firmly  decline  to  be  tromped  onto. 

So  good-bye  for  this  time.  Your  Father. 


E(;(:e9trieity  ip  Cuqc;!?. 


J^^^^VER  at  Kasota  Junction,  the  other  day,  I  found  a  living  curiosity.     He 

'Ir^^rl    ^'^^   ^  ^^^^^  °^  about  medium   height,   perhaps   45  years  of    age,   of 

Jiwl    ^  quiet  disposition,  and  not  noticeable  or  peculiar  in  his  general  man- 

^"^     ner.     He  runs  the  railroad  eating-house  at  that  point,  and  the  one  odd 

characteristic  which  he  has,  makes  him  well  known  all  through  three  or  four 

States.     I  could  not  illus- 
trate his  eccentricity  any 

better  than  by  relating  a 

circumstance  that  occurred 

to  me  at  the  Junction  last 

week.     I    had   just    eaten 

breakfast   there   and  paid 

'for  it.    I  stepped  up  to  the 

cigar  case  and  asked  this 

man  if  he  had  "a  rattling 

good  cigar." 

Without   knowing  it   I 

had  struck  the  very  point 

upon  which  this  man  seems 

to  be  a  crank,  if  you  will 

allow  me  that  expression, 

though  it  doesn't  fit  very 

well    in    this    place.      He 

looked  at  me  in  a  sad  and 

subdued  manner  and  said, 

"No,  sir;  I  haven't  a  rattling  good  cigar  in  the  house.     I  have  some  cigai'ti 

there    that  I  bought   for   Havana   fillers,    but  they  are    mostly    filled    witJi 

pieces  of  Colorado  Maduro  overalls.     There's  a  box  over  yonder  that  I  bought 

for  good,  straight  ten  cent  cigars,  but  they  are  only  a  chaos  of  hay  and  Flora, 

Fino  and  Damfino,  all  socked  into  a  Wisconsin  Avrapper.     Over  in  the  other 

(91) 


THE  ANTIQUE  LUNCH. 


92  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

end  of  the  case  is  a  brand  of  cigars  that  were  to  knock  the  tar  out  of  all  other 
kinds  of  weeds,  according  to  the  urbane  rustler  who  sold  them  to  me,  and  then 
di'ew  on  me  before  I  could  light  one  of  them.  Well,  instead  of  being  a  fine 
Colorado  Claro  Avith  a  high-priced  wrapper,  they  are  common  Mexicano  stink- 
aros  in  a  Mother  Hubbard  wrapper.  The  commercial  tourist  who  sold  me 
those  cigars  and  then  drew  on  me  at  sight  was  a  good  deal  better  on  the  draw 
than  his  cigars  are.  If  you  will  notice,  you  will  see  that  each  cigar  has  a 
spinal  column  to  it,  and  this  outer  debris  is  wra[)ped  around  it.  One  man 
bought  a  cigar  out  of  that  box  last  week.  I  told  him,  though,  just  as  I  am 
telling  you,  that  they  were  no  good,  and  if  he  bought  one  he  would  regret  it. 
But  he  took  one  and  went  out  on  the  veranda  to  smoke  it.  Then  he  stepped 
on  a  nielon  rind  and  fell  with  great  force  on  his  side.  When  we  picked  him 
up  he  gasped  once  or  twice  and  expired.  We  opened  his  vest  hurriedly  and 
found  that,  in  falling,  this  bouquet  de  Gluefactoro  cigar,  with  the  spinal  col 
umn,  had  been  driven  through  his  breast  bone  and  had  penetrated  his  heart. 
The  wrapper  of  the  cigar  never  so  much  as  cracked." 

"But  doesn't  it  impair  your  trade  to  run  on  in  this  wild,  reckless  way 
about  your  cigars?" 

"It  may  at  first,  but  not  after  awhile.  I  always  tell  people  what  my  cigars 
are  made  of,  and  then  they  can't  blame  me ;  so,  after  awhile  they  get  to  believe 
what  I  say  about  them.  I  often  wonder  that  no  cigar  man  ever  tried  this  way 
before.  I  do  just  the  same  way  about  my  lunch  counter.  If  a  man  steps  up 
and  wants  a  fresh  ham  sandwich  I  give  it  to  him  if  I've  got  it,  and  if  I  haven't 
it  I  tell  him  so.  If  you  turn  my  sandwiches  over,  you  will  find  the  date  of  its 
publication  on  every  one.  If  they  are  not  fresh,  and  I  have  no  fresh  ones,  I 
tell  the  cutomer  that  they  are  not  so  blamed  fresh  as  the  young  man  with 
the  gauze  moustache,  but  that  I  can  remember  very  well  when  they  were  fresh, 
and  if  his  artificial  teeth  fit  him  pretty  well  he  can  try  one. 

"It's  just  the  same  with  boiled  eggs.  I  have  a  rubber  dating  stamp,  and 
as  soon  as  the  eggs  are  turned  over  to  me  by  the  hen  for  inspection,  I  date 
them.  Then  they  are  boiled  and  another  date  in  red  is  stamped  on  them.  If 
one  of  my  clerks  should  date  an  egg  ahead,  I  would  fire  him  too  quick. 

"  On  this  account,  people  who  know  me  will  skip  a  meal  at  Missouri  Junc- 
tion, in  order  to  come  here  and  eat  things  that  are  not  clouded  with  mystery. 
I  do  not  keep  any  poor  stuff  when  I  can  help  it,  but  if  I  do,  I  don't  conceal 
the  horrible  fact. 


ECCENTRICITY   IN   LUNCH.  93 

"Of  course  a  new  cook  will  sometimes  smuggle  a  late  date  onto  a  mecligeval 
egg  and  sell  it,  but  he  lias  to  change  his  name  and  flee. 

"I  suppose  that  if  every  eating-house  should  date  everything,  and  be 
square  with  the  public,  it  would  be  an  old  story  and  wouldn't  pay ;  but  as  it 
is,  no  one  trying  to  compete  with  me,  I  do  well  out  of  it,  and  people  come 
here  out  of  curiosity  a  good  deal. 

"  The  reason  I  try  to  do  right  and  win  the  public  esteem  is  that  the  gen- 
eral public  never  did  me  any  harm  and  the  majority  of  people  who  travel  are 
a  kind  that  I  may  meet  in  a  future  state.  I  should  hate  to  have  a  thousand 
traveling  men  holding  nuggets  of  rancid  ham  sandwiches  under  my  nose 
through  all  eternity,  and  know  that  I  had  lied  about  it.  It's  an  honest  fact,  if 
I  knew  I'd  got  to  stand  up  and  apologize  for  my  hand-made,  all-around,  seani- 
less  j)ies,  and  quarantine  cigars.  Heaven  would  be  no  object." 


^'F  there  be  one  thing  above  another  that  I  revel  in,  it  is  science.  I  have 
devoted  much  of  my  life  to  scientific  research,  and  though  it  hasn't  made 
much  stir  in  the  scientific  world  so  far,  I  am  })Ositive  that  when  I  am  gone 
"^  the  scientists  of  our  day  will  miss  me,  and  the  red-nosed  theorist  will  come 
and  shed  the  scalding  tear  over  my  humble  tomb. 

My  attention  Avas  first  attracted  to  insomnia  as  the  foe  of  the  domestic  ani- 
mal, by  the  strange  appearance  of  a  favorite  dog  named  Lucretia  Borgia.  I 
did  not  name  this  animal  Lucretia  Borgia.  He  was  named  when  I  purchased 
him.  In  his  eccentric  and  abnormal  thirst  for  blood  he  favored  Lucretia,  but 
in  sex  he  did  not.  I  got  him  partly  because  he  loved  children.  The  owner 
said  Lucretia  Borgia  was  an  ardent  lover  of  children,  and  I  found  that  he  was. 
He  seemed  to  love  them  best  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  when  they  were  tender. 
He  would  have  eaten  up  a  favorite  child  of  mine,  if  the  youngster  hadn't  left  a 
rubber  ball  in  his  pocket  which  clogged  the  glottis  of  Lucretia  till  I  could  ^et 
there  and  disengage  what  was  left  of  the  child. 

Lucretia  soon  after  this  began  to  be  restless.  He  would  come  to  my  case- 
ment and  lift  up  his  voice,  and  howl  into  the  bosom  of  the  silent  night.  At 
first  I  thought  that  he  had  found  some  one  in  distress,  or  wanted  to  get  me  out 
of  doors  and  save  my  life.  I  went  out  several  nights  in  a  weird  costume  that 
I  had  made  up  of  garments  belonging  to  different  members  of  my  family.  I 
dressed  carefully  in  the  dark  and  stole  out  to  kill  the  assassin  referred  to  by 
Lucretia,  but  he  was  not  there.  Then  the  faithful  animal  would  run  up  to  me 
and  with  almost  human,  pleading  eyes,  bark  and  run  away  toward  a  distant 
alley.  I  immediately  decided  that  some  one  was  suffering  there.  I  had  read 
in  books  about  dogs  that  led  their  masters  away  to  the  suffering  and  saved 
people's  lives ;  so,  when  Lucretia  came  to  me  with  his  great,  honest  eyes  and 
took  little  mementoes  out  of  the  calf  of  my  leg,  and  then  galloped  off  seven  or 
eight  blocks,  I  followed  him  in  the  chill  air  of  night  and  my  Mosaic  clothes. 
I  wandered  away  to  where  the  dog  stopped  behind  a  livery  stable,   and  there, 

(94) 


INSOMNIA   IN   DOMESTIC   ANIMALS. 


95 


lying  in  a  shuddering  lieap  on  the  frosty  ground,  Liy  the  still,   white  features 
of  a  soup  bone  that  had  outlived  its  usefulness. 

On  the  way  back,  I  met  a  physician  who  had  been  up  town  to  swear  in  an 
American  citizen  who  would  vote  twenty-one  years  later,  if  he  lived.  The 
physician  stopped  me  and  was  going  to  take  me  to  the  home  of  the  friendless, 
when  he  discovered  who  I  was. 


EXCITING   PUBLIC   CURIOSITY. 


Yon  wrap  a  tall  man,  with  a  William  H.  Seward  nose,  in  a  flannel  robe, 
cut  plain,  and  then  put  a  plug  hat  and  a  sealskin  sacque  and  Arctic  overshoes 
on  him,  and  put  him  out  in  the  street,  under  the  gaslight,  with  his  trim,  pur- 
ple ankles  just  revealing  themselves  as  he  madly  gallops  after  a  hydi'ophobia 
infested  dog,  and  it  is  not,  after  all,  surprising  that  people's  curiosity  should 
be  a  little  bit  excited. 

After  I  had  introduced  myself  to  the  physician  and  asked  him  for  a  cigar, 
explaining  that  I  could  not  find  any  in  the  clothes  I  had  on,  I  asked  him  about 


96  EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Lucretia  Borgia.  I  told  the  doctor  how  Lucretia  seemed  restless  nights  and 
nervous  and  irritable  days,  and  how  he  seemed  to  be  almost  a  mental  wreck, 
and  asked  him  what  the  trouble  was. 

He  said  it  was  undoubtedly  "insomnia."  He  said  that  it  was  a  bad  case  of 
it,  too.  I  told  him  I  thought  so  myself.  I  said  I  didn't  mind  the  insomnia 
that  Lucretia  had  so  much  as  I  did  my  own.  I  was  getting  more  insomnia  on 
my  hands  than  I  could  use. 

He  gave  me  something  to  administer  to  Lucretia.  He  said  I  must  put  it  in 
a  link  of  sausage  and  leave  the  sausage  where  it  would  appear  that  I  didn't 
want  the  dog  to  get  it,  and  then  Lucretia  would  eat  it  greedily. 

I  did  so.  It  worked  well  so  far  as  the  administration  of  the  remedy  was 
concerned,  but  it  was  fatal  to  my  little,  high  strung,  yearnful  dog.  It  must 
have  contained  something  of  a  deleterious  character,  for  the  next  morning  a 
coarse  man  took  Lucretia  Borgia  by  the  tail  and  laid  him  where  the  violets 
blow.  Malignant  insomnia  is  fast  becoming  the  great  foe  to  the  modern  Amer- 
ican dog. 


•^^ 


j\\OT}(^  Cal^e  Superior. 

HAVE  just  returned  from  a  brief  visit  to  Duluth.  After  strolling  along 
the  Bay  of  Naples  and  watching  old  Vesuvius  vomit  red-hot  mud,  vapor 
and  other  campaign  documents,  Duluth  is  quite  a  change.  The  ice  in  the 
'<?'  bay  at  Duluth  was  thirty-eight  inches  in  depth  when  I  left  there  the 
last  week  in  March,  and  we  rode  across  it  with  the  utmost  impunity.  By  the 
time  these  lines  fall  beneath  the  eye  of  the  genial,  courteous  and  urbane  reader, 
the  new  railroad  bridge  across  the  bay,  over  a  mile  and  a  half  long,  will  have 
been  completed,  so  that  you  may  ride  from  Chicago  to  Duluth  over  the  North- 
western and  Omaha  railroads  with  great  comfort.  I  would  be  glad  to  digress 
here  and  tell  about  the  beauty  of  the  summer  scenery  along  the  Omaha  road, 
and  the  shy  and  beautiful  troutlet,  and  the  dark  and  silent  Chippewa  squawlet 
and  her  little  bleached  out  pappooselet,  were  it  not  for  the  unkind  and  cruel 
thrusts  that  I  would  invoke  from  the  scenery  cynic  wdio  believes  that  a  news- 
paper man's  opinions  may  be  largely  warped  with  a  pass. 

Duluth  has  been  joked  a  good  deal,  but  she  stands  it  first-rate  and  takes  it 
good  naturedly.  She  claims  1G,000  people,  some  of  whom  I  met  at  the  opera 
house  there.  If  the  rest  of  the  10,000  are  as  pleasant  as  those  I  con- 
versed with  that  evening,  Duluth  must  be  a  pleasant  place  to  live  in.  Duluth 
has  a  very  pleasant  and  beautiful  opera  house  that  seats  1,000  people.  A  few 
more  could  have  elbowed  their  way  into  the  opera  house  the  evening  that  I 
spoke  there,  but  they  preferred  to  suffer  on  at  home. 

Lake  Superior  is  one  of  the  largest  aggregations  of  fresh  wetness  in  the 
world,  if  not  the  largest.  When  I  stop  to  think  that  some  day  all  this  cold, 
cold  water  will  have  to  be  absorbed  by  mankind,  it  gives  me  a  cramp  in  the 
geographical  center. 

Around  the  west  end  of  Lake  Superior  there  is  a  string  of  towns  which 
stretches  along  the  shore  for  miles  under  one  name  or  another,  all  waiting  for 
the  boom  to  strike  and  make  the  northern  Chicago.  You  cannot  visit  Duluth 
or  Superior  without  feeling  that  at  any  moment  the  tide  of  trade  will  rise  and 

(97) 


98  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

designate  the  point  where  the  future  metropolis  of  the  northern  lakes  is  to  be. 
I  firmly  believe  that  this  summer  will  decide  it,  and  my  guess  is  that  what  is 
now  known  as  West  Superior  is  to  get  the  benefit.  For  many  years  destiny 
has  been  hovering  over  the  west  end  of  this  mighty  lake,  and  now  the  favored 
point  is  going  to  be  designated.  Duluth  has  past  prosperity  and  expensive 
improvements  in  her  favor,  and  in  fact  the  whole  locality  is  going  to  be  ben- 
efited, but  if  I  had  a  block  in  West  Superior  with  a  roller  rink  on  it,  I  would 
wear  my  best  clothes  every  day  and  claim  to  be  a  millionaire  in  disguise.  Ex- 
President  R.  B.  Hayes  has  a  large  brick  block  in  Duluth,  but  he  does  not 
occupy  it.  Those  who  go  to  Duluth  hoping  to  meet  Mr.  Hayes  will  be 
bitterly  disappointed. 

The  streams  that  run  into  Lake  Superior  are  alive  with  trout,  and  next 
summer  I  propose  to  go  up  there  and  roast  until  I  have  so  thoroughly  sat- 
urated my  system  with  trout  that  the  trout  bones  will  stick  out  through  my 
clothes  in  every  direction  and  people  will  regard  me  as  a  beautiful  toothpick 
holder. 

Still  there  will  be  a  few  left  for  those  who  think  of  going  up  there.  All  I 
will  need  will  be  barely  enough  to  feed  Albert  Victor  and  myself  from  day  to 
day.  People  who  have  never  seen  a  crowned  head  with  a  peeled  nose  on  it 
are  cordially  invited  to  come  over  and  see  us  during  office  hours.  Albert  is 
not  at  all  haughty,  and  I  intend  to  throw  aside  my  usual  reserve  this  summer 
also — for  the  time.  P.  Wales'  son  and  I  will  be  far  from  the  cares  that  crowd 
so  thick  and  fast  on  greatness.  People  who  come  to  our  cedar  bark  wigwam 
to  show  us  their  mosquito  bites,  will  be  received  as  cordially  as  though  no 
great  social  chasm  yawned  between  us. 

Many  will  meet  us  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  and  go  away  thinking  that 
we  are  just  common  plugs  of  whom  the  world  wots  not;  but  there  is  where 
they  will  fool  themselves. 

Then,  when  the  season  is  over,  we  will  come  back  into  the  great  mael- 
strom of  life,  he  to  wait  for  his  grandmother's  overshoes  and  I  to  thrill  waiting 
millions  from  the  rostrum  with  my  "Tale  of  the  Broncho  Cow."  And  so  it 
goes  with  us  all.  Adown  life's  rugged  pathway  some  must  toil  on  from  day- 
light to  dark  to  earn  their  meagre  pittance  as  kings,  while  others  are  born  to 
wear  a  swallow-tail  coat  every  evening  and  wring  tears  of  genuine  anguish 
from  their  audiences. 

They  tell  some  rather  wide  stories  about  people  who  have  gone  up  there 


ALONG   LAKE   SUPERIOR.  99 

total  physical  wrecks  and  returned  strong  and  well.  One  man  said  that  he 
knew  a  young  college  student,  who  was  all  run  down  and  weak,  go  up  there 
on  the  Brule  and  eat  trout  and  fight  mosquitoes  a  few  months,  and  when  he 
returned  to  his  Boston  home  he  was  so  stout  and  well  and  tanned  up  that  his 
parents  did  not  know  him.  There  was  a  man  in  our  car  who  weighed  300 
pounds.  He  seemed  to  be  boiling  out  through  his  clothes  everywhere.  He 
was  the  happiest  looking  man  I  ever  saw.  All  he  seemed  to  do  in  this  life 
was  to  sit  all  day  and  whistle  and  laugh  and  trot  his  stomach,  first  on  one 
knee  and  then  on  the  other. 

He  said  that  he  went  ujp  into  the  pine  forests  of  the  Great  Lake  region  a 
broken-down  hypochondriac  and  confirmed  consumptive.  He  had  been  meas- 
ured for  a  funeral  sermon  three  times,  he  said,  and  had  never  used  either  of 
them.  He  knew  a  clergyman  named  Brayley  who  went  up  into  that  region 
with  Bright' s  justly  celebrated  disease.  He  was  so  emaciated  that  he  couldn't 
carry  a  watch.  The  ticking  of  the  watch  rattled  his  bones  so  that  it  made  him 
nervous,  and  at  night  they  had  to  pack  him  in  cotton  so  that  he  wouldn't  break 
a  leg  when  he  turned  over.  He  got  to  sleeping  out  nights  on  a  bed  of  balsam 
and  spruce  boughs  and  eating  venison  and  trout. 

When  he  came  down  in  the  spring,  he  passed  through  a  car  of  lumbermen, 
and  one  of  them  put  a  warm,  wet  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  plug  hat  for  a  joke. 
There  were  a  hundred  of  these  lumbermen  when  the  preacher  began,  and  when 
the  train  got  into  Eau  Claire  there  were  only  three  of  them  well  enough  to  go 
around  to  the  office  and  draw  their  pay. 

This  is  just  as  the  story  was  given  to  me  and  I  repeat  it  to  show  how  brac- 
ing the  climate  near  Superior  is.  Remember,  if  you  please,  that  I  do  not  want 
the  story  to  be  repeated  as  coming  from  me,  for  I  have  nothing  left  now  but 
my  reputation  for  veracity,  and  that  has  had  a  very  hard  winter  of  it. 


1  Jried  f[\\\\\T)(^. 


f  THINK  I  was  about  18  years  of  age  wlien  I  decided  that  I  would  be  a 
miller,  with  flour  on  my  clothes  and  a  salary  of  ^200  per  month.  This 
was  not  the  first  thing  I  had  decided  to  be,  and  afterward  changed  my 
^   mind  about. 

I  engaged  to  learn  my  profession  of  a  man  called  Sam  Newton,  I  believe ; 
at  least  I  will  call  him  that  for  the  sake  of  argument.  My  business  was  to 
weigh  wheat,  deduct  as  much  as  possible  on  account  of  cockle,  pigeon  grass 
and  wild  buckwheat,  and  to  chisel  the  honest  farmer  out  of  all  he  would  stand. 
This  was  the  programme  with  Mr.  Newton ;  but  I  am  happy  to  say  that  it  met 
with  its  reward,  and  the  sheriff  afterward  operated  the  mill. 

On  stormy  days  I  did  the  book-keeping,  with  a  scoop  shovel  behind  my  ear, 
in  a  pile  of  middlings  on  the  fifth  floor.  Gradually  I  drifted  into  doing  a  good 
deal  of  this  kind  of  brain  work.  I  would  chop  the  ice  out  of  the  turbine  wheel 
at  5  o'clock  A.  M.,  and  then  frolic  up  six  flights  of  stairs  and  shovel  shorts  till 
9  o'clock  p.  M. 

By  shoveling  bran  and  other  vegetables  IG  hours  a  day,  a  general  knowl- 
edge of  the  milling  business  may  be  readily  obtained.  I  used  to  scoop  mid- 
dlings till  I  could  see  stars,  and  then  I  would  look  out  at  the  landscape  and 
ponder. 

I  got  so  that  I  piled  up  more  ponder,  after  a  while,  than  I  did  middlings. 

One  day  the  proprietor  came  up  stairs  and  discovered  me  in  a  brown  study, 
whereupon  he  cursed  me  in  a  subdued  Presbyterian  way,  abbreviated  my  sal- 
ary from  |26  per  month  to  $18  and  reduced  me  to  the  ranks. 

Afterward  I  got  together  enough  desultory  information  so  that  I  could 
superintend  the  feed  stone.  The  feed  stone  is  used  to  grind  hen  feed  and 
other  luxuries.  One  day  I  noticed  an  odor  that  reminded  me  of  a  hot  over- 
shoe trying  to  smother  a  glue  factory  at  the  close  of  a  tropical  day.  I  spoke 
to  the  chief  floor  walker  of  the  mill  about  it,  and  he  said  "  dod  gammit"  or 
something  that  sounded  like  that,  in  a  course  and  brutal  manner.     He  then 

(100) 


I   TRIED   MILLING. 


101 


kicked  my  person  in  a  rude  and  hurried  tone  of  voice,  and  told  me  that  the 
feed  stone  was  burning  up. 

•  He  was  a  very  fierce  man,  with  a  violent  and  ungovernable  temper,  and, 
finding  that  I  was  only  increasing  his  brutal  fury,  I  afterward  resigned  my 
position.  I  talked  it  over  with  the  proprietor,  and  both  agreed  that  it  would 
be  best.  He  agreed  to  it  before  I  did,  and  rather  hurried  up  my  determina- 
tion to  go. 

I  rather  hated  to  go  so  soon,  but  he  made  it  an  object  for  me  to  go,  and  I  went. 
I  started  in  with  the  idea  that  I  would  begin  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder, 
as  it  were,  and  gradually  climb 
to  the  bran  bin  by  my  own  ex- 
ertions, hoping  by  honesty,  in- 
dustry, and  carrying  two  bushels 
of  wheat  up  nine  flights  of 
stairs,  to  become  a  wealthy 
man,  with  corn  meal  in  my  hair 
and  cracked  wheat  in  my  coat 
pocket,  but  I  did  not  seem  to 
accomplish  it. 

Instead  of  having  ink  on 
my  fingers  and  a  chastened  look 
of  woe  on  my  clear-cut  Grecian 
features,  I  might  have  poured 
No.  1  hard  wheat  and  buck- 
wheat flour  out  of  my  long  taper 
ears  every  night,  if  I  had  stuck 
to  the  profession.  Still,  as  I 
say,  it  was  for  another  man's 
best  good  that  I  resigned.  The 
head  miller  had  no  control  over 


HE   MADE   IT   AN   OBJECT  FOR   ME   TO   GO. 


himself  and  the  proprietor  had  rather  set  his  heart  on  my  resignation,  so  it 
was  better  that  way. 

Still  I  like  to  roll  around  in  the  bran  pile,  and  monkey  in  the  cracked 
wheat.  I  love  also  to  go  out  in  the  kitchen  and  put  corn  meal  down  the  back 
of  the  cook's  neck  while  my  wife  is  working  a  purple  silk  Kensington  dog, 
with  navy  blue  mane  and  tail,  on  a  gothic  lambrequin. 


102  KEMAEKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

I  can  never  cease  to  hanker  for  the  rumble  and  grumble  of  the  busy  mill, 
and  the  solemn  murmur  of  the  millstones  and  the  machinery  are  music  to  me. 
More  so  than  the  solemn  murmur  of  the  proprietor  used  to  be  when  he  came 
in  at  an  inopportune  moment,  and  in  that  impromptu  and  extem})oraneous  man- 
ner of  his,  and  found  me  admiring  the  wild  and  beautiful  scenery.  He  may 
have  been  a  good  miller,  but  he  had  no  love  for  the  beautiful.  Perhaps  that 
is  why  he  was  always  so  cold  and  cruel  toward  me.  My  slender,  willowy  grace 
and  mellow,  bird-like  voice  never  seemed  to  melt  his  stony  heart. 


Our  porefatl7er$. 


il^M  EATTLE,  W.  T.,  December  12. — I  am  up  here  on  the  Sound  in  two 
"^^N^  senses.  I  rode  down  to-day  from  Tacoma  on  the  Sound,  and  to-night 
y[^^yj   I  shall  lecture  at  Frye's  Opera  House. 

"^^^  Seattle  is  a  good  town.     The  name  lacks  poetic  warmth,  but  some  day 

the  man  who  has  invested  in  Seattle  real  estate  will  have  reason  to  pat  himself 
on  the  back  and  say  "ha  ha,"  or  words  to  that  effect.  The  city  is  situated  on 
the  side  of  a  large  hill  and  commands  a  very  fine  view  of  that  world's  most 
calm  and  beautiful  collection  of  water,  Puget  Sound. 

I  cannot  speak  too  highly  of  any  sheet  of  water  on  which  I  can  ride  all 
day  with  no  compunction  of  digestion.  He  who  has  tossed  for  days  upon  the 
briny  deep,  will  understand  this  and  appreciate  it;  even  if  he  never  tossed 
upon  the  angry  deep,  if  it  happened  to  be  all  he  had,  he  will  be  glad  to  know 
that  the  Sound  is  a  good  piece  of  water  to  ride  on.  The  gentle  reader  who  has 
crossed  the  raging  main  and  borrowed  high-priced  meals  of  the  steamship 
company  for  days  and  days,  will  agree  with  me  that  when  we  can  find  a  smooth 
piece  of  water  to  ride  on  we  should  lose  no  time  in  crossing  it. 

In  "Washington  Territory  the  women  vote.  That  is  no  novelty  to  me,  of 
course,  for  I  lived  in  AVyoming  for  seven  years  where  women  vote,  and  I  held 
ofl&ce  all  the  time.  And  still  they  say  that  female  voters  are  poor  judges  of 
men,  and  that  any  pleasing  $2  adonis  who  comes  along  and  asks  for  their  suf- 
frages will  get  them. 

Not  much!  !  ! 

Woman  is  a  keen  and  correct  judge  of  mental  and  moral  worth.  Without 
stopping  to  give  logical  reasons  for  her  course,  perhaps,  she  still  chooses  with 
unerring  judgment  at  the  polls. 

Anyone  who  doubts  this  statement,  will  do  well  to  go  to  the  old  poll  books 
in  Wyoming  and  examine  my  overwhelming  majorities — with  a  powerful  mag- 
nifier. 

(103) 


104:  EEMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

I  have  just  received  from  Boston  a  warm  invitation  to  be  present  in  that 
city  on  Forefathers'  day, to  take  part  in  the  ceremonies  and  join  in  the  festivi- 
ties of  that  occasion. 

Forefathers,  I  thank  you !  Though  this  reply  will  not  reach  you  for  a  long 
time,  perhaps,  I  desire  to  express  to  you  my  deep  appreciation  of  your  kind- 
ness, and,  though  I  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  a  forefather  myself,  I  assure  you 
that  I  sympathize  with  you. 

Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  be  with  you  on  this  day  of 
your  general  jubilee  and  to  talk  over  old  times  with  you. 

One  who  has  never  experienced  the  thrill  of  genuine  joy  that  wakens  a  man 
to  a  glad  realization  of  the  fact  that  he  is  a  forefather,  cannot  understand  its 
full  significance.  You  alone  know  how  it  is  yourself,  you  can  speak  from  exper- 
ience. 

In  fancy's  dim  corridors  I  see  yon  stand,  away  back  in  the  early  dawn  of 
our  national  day,  with  the  tallow  candle  drooping  and  dying  in  its  socket,  as 
you  waited  for  the  physician  to  come  and  announce  to  you  that  you  were  a  fore- 
father. 

Forefathers  you  have  done  well.  Others  have  sought  to  outdo  you  and 
wi-est  the  laurels  from  your  brow,  but  they  did  not  succeed.  As  forefathers  you 
have  never  been  successfully  scooped. 

I  hope  that  you  will  keep  up  your  justly  celebrated  organization.  If  a 
forefather  allows  his  dues  to  get  in  arrears,  go  to  him  kindly  and  ask  him  like 
a  brother  to  put  up.  If  he  refuses  to  do  so,  fire  him.  There  is  no  reason  why 
a  man  should  presume  upon  his  long  standing  as  a  forefather  to  become  inso- 
lent to  other  forefathers  who  are  far  his  seniors.  As  a  rule,  I  notice  it  is  the 
young  amateur  forefather  who  has  only  been  so  a  few  days,  in  fact,  who  is 
arrogant  and  disobedient. 

I  have  often  wished  that  we  could  observe  Forefathers'  day  more  generally 
in  the  West.  Why  we  should  allow  the  Eastern  cities  to  outdo  us  in  this  mat- 
ter, while  we  hold  over  them  in  other  ways,  I  cannot  understand.  Our  church 
sociables  and  homicides  in  the  West  will  compare  favorably  with  those  of  the 
effeter  cities  of  the  Atlantic  slope.  Our  educational  institutions  and  embez- 
zlers are  making  rapid  strides,  especially  our  embezzlers.  We  are  cultivating 
a  certain  air  of  refinement  and  liaughty  reserve  which  enables  us  at  times  to 
fool  the  best  judges.  Many  of  our  Western  people  have  been  to  the  Atlantic 
seaboard   and  remained   all   summer  without  falling  into  the  hands  of   the 


-«  OUR    FOREFATHERS.  105 

bunko  artist.  A  cow  gentleman  friend  of  mine  who  bathed  his  plump  limbs 
in  the  Atlantic  last  summer  during  the  day,  and  mixed  himself  up  in  the  mazy 
dance  at  night,  told  me  on  his  return  that  he  had  enjoyed  the  summer 
immensely,  but  that  he  had  returned  financially  depressed. 

"Ah,"  said  I,  Avitli  an  air  of  superiority  which  I  often  assume  while  talking  to 
men  who  know  more  than  I  do,  "you  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  cultivated  con- 
fi.dence  man?" 

"No,  AVilliam,"  he  said  sadly,  "worse  than  that.  I  stopped  at  a  seaside 
hotel.  Had  I  gone  to  New  York  City  and  hunted  up  the  gentlemanly  bunko 
man  and  the  Wall  street  dealer  in  lamb's  jjelts,  as  my  better  judgment  prompted, 
I  might  have  returned  with  funds.  Now  I  am  almost  insolvent.  I  beo-in  life 
again  with  great  sorrow,  and  the  same  old  Texas  steer  with  which  I  went  into 
the  cattle  industry  five  years  ago." 

But  why  should  we,  here  in  the  West,  take  readily  to  all  other  institutions 
common  to  the  cultured  East  and  ignore  the  forefather  industry  ?  I  now  make 
this  public  announcement,  and  will  stick  to  it,  viz:  I  will  be  one  of  ten  full- 
blooded  American  citizens  to  establish  a  branch  forefather's  lodge  in  the  West, 
with  a  separate  fund  set  aside  for  the  benefit  of  forefathers  who  are  no  longer 
young.  Forefathers  are  just  as  apt  to  become  old  and  helpless  as  anyone  else. 
Young  men  who  contemplate  becoming  forefathers  should  remember  this. 


\t)  f\e\r)0\ij\ed<^n\eT)\:. 


So  THE  METROPOLITAN  GUIDE  PUBLISHING  CO.,  New  York. 

Gentlemen. — I  received  the  copy  of  your  justly  celebrated  "Guide 
to  rapid  Affluence,  or  How  to  Acquire  Wealth  Without  Mental  Exer- 
^^     tion,"  price  twenty-five  cents.     It  is  a  great  boon. 

I  have  now  had  this  book  sixteen  weeks,  and,  as  I  am  wealthy  enough,  I 
return  it.  It  is  not  much  worn,  and  if  you  will  allow  me  fifteen  cents  for  it, 
I  would  be  very  grateful.  It  is  not  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  fifteen  cents  that 
I  care  for  so  much,  but  I  would  like  it  as  a  curiosity. 

The  book  is  wonderfully  graphic  and  thorough  in  all  its  details,  and  I  was 
especially  pleased  with  its  careful  and  useful  recipe  for  ointments.  One  style 
of  ointment  spoken  of  and  recommended  by  your  valuable  book,  is  worthy  of 
a  place  in  history.  I  made  some  of  it  according  to  your  formula.  I  tried  it 
on  a  friend  of  mine.  He  wore  it  when  he  went  away,  and  he  has  hot  as  yet 
returned.  I  heard,  incidentally,  that  it  adhered  to  him.  People  who  have 
examined  it  say  that  it  retains  its  position  on  his  person  similar  to  a  birth- 
mark. 

Your  cement  does  not  have  the  same  peculiarity.  It  does  everything  but 
adhere.  Among  other  specialties  it  effects  a  singular  odor.  It  has  a  fragrance 
that  ought  to  be  utilized  in  some  way.  Men  have  harnessed  the  lightning,  and 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  a  man  will  be  raised  up  who 
can  control  this  latent  power.  Do  you  not  think  that  possibly  you  have  made 
a  mistake  and  got  your  ointment  and  cement  formula  mixed  ?  Your  cement 
certainly  smells  like  a  corrupt  administration  in  a  warm  room. 

Your  revelations  in  the  liquor  manufacture,  and  how  to  make  any  mixed 
drink  with  one  hand  tied,  is  well  worth  the  price  of  the  book.  The  chapter 
on  bar  etiquette  is  also  excellent.  Very  few  men  know  how  to  properly  enter 
a  bar-room  and  what  to  do  after  they  arrive.  How  to  get  into  a  bar-room 
without  attracting  attention,  and  how  to  get  out  without  police  interference, 
are  points  upon  which  our  American  drunkards  are  lamentably  ignorant.    How 

(106) 


IN   ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 


107 


to  properly  address  a  bar  tender,  is  also  a  page  that  no  student  of  good  breed- 
ing could  well  omit. 

I  was  greatly  surprised  to  read  how  simple  the  manufacture  of  drinks  under 
your  formula  is.  You  construct  a  cocktail  without  liquor  and  then  rob  intem- 
perance of  its  sting.  You  also  make  all  kinds  of  liquor  without  the  use  of 
alcohol,  that  demon  under  whose  iron  heel  thousands  of  our  sons  and  brothers 
go  down  to  death  and  delirium  annually.     Thus  you  are  doing  a  good  work. 

You  also  unite  aloes,  tobacco  and  Rough  on  Rats,  and,  by  a  happy  combina- 
tion, construct  a  style  of  beer  that  is  non-intoxicating. 

No  one  could,  by  any  possible  means,  become  intoxicated  on  your  justly 
celebrated  beer.  He  would  not  have  time.  Before  he  could  get  inebriated  he 
would  be  in  the  New  Jerusalem. 

Those  who  drink  yovir  beer  will  not  fill  drunkards'  graves.  They  will  close 
their  career  and  march  out  of  this  life  with  perforated  stomachs  and  a  look  of 
intense  anguish. 

Your  method  of  making  cider  without  apples  is  also  frugal  and  ingenious. 
Thousands  of  innocent  apple  worms  annually  lose  their  lives  in  the  manufac- 


HOW   TO   WIN   AFFECTION. 

ture  of  cider.  They  are  also,  in  most  instances,  wholly  unprepared  to  die.  By 
your  method,  a  style  of  wormless  cider  is  constructed  that  would  not  fool  any- 
one. It  tastes  a  good  deal  like  rain  water  that  was  rained  about  the  first  time 
that  any  raining  was  ever  done,  and  was  deprived  of  air  ever  since. 

The  closing  chapter  on  the  subject  of  "How  to  win  the  affections  of  the 
opposite  sex  at  sixty  yards,"  is  first-rate.  It  is  wonderful  what  triumph  science 
and  inventions  have  wrenched  from  obdurate  conditions !     Only  a  few  years 


108  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

ago,  a  young  man  had  to  work  hard  for  weeks  and  months  in  order  to  win  the 
love  of  a  noble  young  woman.  Now,  with  your  valuable  and  scholarly  work, 
price  twenty -five  cents,  he  studies  over  the  closing  chapter  an  hour  or  two,  then 
goes  out  into  society  and  gathers  in  his  victim.  And  yet  I  do  not  grudge  the 
long,  long  hours  I  squandered  in  those  years  when  people  were  in  heathenish 
darkness.  I  had  no  book  like  yours  to  tell  me  Iioav  to  win  the  affections  of  the 
opposite  sex.  I  could  only  blunder  on,  week  after  week:  and  yet  I  do  not 
regret  it.     It  was  just  the  school  I  needed.     It  did  me  good. 

Your  book  will,  no  doubt,  be  a  good  thing  for  those  who  now  grope,  but  I 
have  groped  so  long  that  I  have  formed  the  habit  and  prefer  it.  Let  me  go 
right  on  groping.  Those  who  desire  to  win  the  affections  of  the  opposite  sex 
at  one  sitting,  will  do  well  to  send  two  bits  for  your  great  work,  but  I  am  in 
no  hurry.     My  time  is  not  valuable. 


preuer^tip^  a  Sea^dal. 

i|,.iiOYS  should  never  be  afraid  or  ashamed  to  do  little  odd  jobs  by  which  to 
&    acquire  money.     Too  many  boys  are  afraid,  or  at  least  seem  to  be  em- 

^Q)j  barrassed  when  asked  to  do  chores,  and  thus  earn  small  sums  of  money. 
"•^"^  In  order  to  appreciate  wealth  we  must  earn  it  ourselves.  That  is  the 
reason  I  labor.  I  do  not  need  to  labor.  My  parents  are  still  living,  and  they 
certainly  would  not  see  me  suffer  for  the  necessities  of  life.  But  life  in  that 
way  would  not  have  the  keen  relish  that  it  would  if  I  earned  the  money 
myself. 

Sawing  wood  used  to  be  a  favorite  pastime  with  boys  twenty  years  ago.  I 
remember  the  first  money  I  ever  earned  was  by  sawing  wood.  My  brother 
and  myself  were  to  receive  $5  for  sawing  five  cords  of  wood.  We  allowed  the 
job  to  stand,  however,  until  the  weather  got  quite  warm,  and  then  we  decided 
to  hire  a  foreigner  who  came  along  that  way  one  glorious  summer  day  when 
all  nature  seemed  tickled  and  we  knew  that  the  fish  would  be  apt  to  bite.  So 
we  hired  the  foreigner,  and  while  he  sawed,  we  would  bet  with  him  on  various 
"dead  sure  things"  until  he  got  the  wood  sawed,  when  he  went  away  owing  us 
fifty  cents. 

We  had  a  neighbor  who  was  very  wealthy.  He  noticed  that  we  boys  earned 
our  own  spending  money,  and  he  yearned  to  have  his  son  try  to  ditto.  So  he  told 
the  boy  that  he  was  going  away  for  a  few  weeks  and  that  he  would  give  him  $2 
per  cord,  or  double  price,  to  saw  the  wood.  He  wanted  to  teach  the  boy  to  earn 
and  appreciate  his  money.  So,  when  the  old  man  went  away,  the  boy  secured 
a  colored  man  to  do  the  job  at  %\.  per  cord,  by  which  process  the  youth  made 
$10.  This  he  judiciously  invested  in  clothes,  meeting  his  father  at  the  train 
in  a  new  summer  suit  and  a  speckled  cane.  The  old  man  said  he  could  see  by 
the  sparkle  in  the  boy's  clear,  honest  eyes,  that  healthful  exercise  was  what 
boys  needed. 

When  I  was  a  boy  I  frequently  acquired  large  si^ms  of  money  by  carrying 
coal  up  two  flights  of  stairs  for  wealthy  people  who  were  too  fat  to  do  it  tliem- 

(109) 


110  EEMAKKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

selves.  This  money  I  invested  from  time  to  time  in  side  sliows  and  other  zoo- 
logical attractions. 

One  day  I  saw  a  coal  cart  back  up  and  unload  itself  on  the  walk  in  such  a 
way  as  to  indicate  that  the  coal  would  have  to  be  manually  elevated  inside  the 
building.  I  waited  till  I  nearly  froze  to  death,  for  the  owner  to  come  along 
and  solicit  my  aid.  Finally  he  came.  He  smelled  strong  of  carbolic  acid,  and 
I  afterward  learned  that  he  was  a  physician  and  surgeon. 

We  haggled  over  the  price  for  some  time,  as  I  had  to  carry  the  coal  up  two 
flights  in  an  old  waste  paper  basket  and  it  was  quite  a  task.  Finally  we 
agreed.  I  proceeded  with  the  work.  About  dusk  I  went  up  the  last  flight  of 
stairs  with  the  last  load.  My  feet  seemed  to  weigh  about  nineteen  pounds  apiece 
and  my  face  was  very  sombre. 

In  the  gloaming  I  saw  my  employer.  He  was  writing  a  prescription  by  the 
dim,  uncertain  light.  He  told  me  to  put  the  last  basketful  in  the  little  closet 
off  the  hall  and  then  come  and  get  my  pay.  I  took  the  coal  into  the  closet, 
but  I  do  not  know  what  I  did  with  it.  As  I  opened  the  door  and  stepped  in, 
a  tall  skeleton  got  down  off  the  nail  and  embraced  me  like  a  prodigal  son.  It 
fell  on  my  neck  and  draped  itself  all  over  me.  Its  glittering  phalanges 
entered  the  bosom  of  my  gingham  shirt  and  rested  lightly  on  the  pit  of  my 
stomach.  I  could  feel  the  pelvis  bone  in  the  small  of  my  back.  The  room 
Avas  dark,  but  I  did  not  light  the  gas.  Whether  it  was  the  skeleton  of  a  lady 
or  gentleman,  I  never  knew;  but  I  thought,  for  the  sake  of  my  good  name,  I 
would  not  remain.  My  good  name  and  a  strong  yearning  for  home  were  all 
that  I  had  at  that  time. 

So  I  went  home.  Afterwards,  I  learned  that  this  physician  got  all  his  coal 
carried  up  stairs  for  nothing  in  this  way,  and  he  had  tried  to  get  rooms  two  flights 
further  up  in  the  building,  so  that  the  boys  would  have  further  to  fall  wdien 
they  made  their  egress. 


f\boat  portraits. 


Hudson,  Wis.,  August  25,  1885. 
H(,.v.  William  F.  Yilas,  Postmaster-General,  Washington,  D.  C. 
^EAE  8IPt.^ — For  some  tiine  I  have  been  thinking  of  writing  to  you  and 
ifl  asking  you  how  you  were  getting  along  with  your  department  since  I 
left  it.  I  did  not  wish  to  write  you  for  the  purpose  of  currying  favor 
"^^  with  an  administration  against  which  I  squandered  a  ballot  last  fall. 
Neither  do  I  desire  to  convey  the  impression  that  I  would  like  to  open  a  cor- 
respondence with  you  for  the  purpose  of  killing  time.  If  you  ever  feel  like 
sitting  down  and  answering  this  letter  in  an  off-hand  way  it  would  please  me 
very  much,  but  do  not  put  yourself  out  to  do  so.  I  wanted 
to  ask  you,  however,  how  you  like  the  pictures  of  yourself 
recently  published  by  the  patent  insides.  That  w^as  my 
principal  object  in  writing.  Having  seen  you  before  this 
great  calamity  befell  you,  I  wanted  to  inquire  whether 
you  had  really  changed  so  much.  As  I  remember  your 
face,  it  was  rather  unusually  intellectual  and  attractive 
for  a  great  man.  Great  men  are  very  rarely  pretty.  I 
guess  that,  aside  from  yourself,  myself,  and  Mr.  Evarts, 
there  is  hardly  an  eminent  man  in  the  country  who  would 
be  considered  handsome.  But  the  engraver  has  done  you 
a  great  injustice,  or  else  you  have  sadly  changed  since  I  saw  you.  It  hardly 
seems  possible  that  your  nose  has  drifted  around  to  leeward  and  swelled  up 
at  the  end,  as  the  engraver  would  have  us  believe,  I  do  not  believe  that  in  a 
few  short  months  the  look  of  firmness  and  conscious  rectitude  that  I  noticed 
could  have  changed  to  that  of  indecision  and  vacuity  which  we  see  in  some  of 
your  late  portraits  as  printed. 

I  saw  one  yesterday,  with  your  name  attached  to  it,  and  it  made  my  heart 
ache  for  your  family.  As  a  resident  in  your  State  I  felt  humiliated.  Two  of 
Wisconsin's  ablest  men  have  been  thus  slaughtered  by  the  rude  broad-axe  of 
the  engraver.     Last  fall,  Senator  Spooner,  who  is  also  a  man  with  a  first-class 

(111) 


A  NOSE  ON  THE  BIAS. 


112 


REMARKS   BY    BILL    NYE. 


head  and  face,  was  libeled  in  this  same  reckless  way.  It  makes  me  mad,  and 
in  that  way  impairs  my  usefulness.  I  am  not  a  good  citizen,  husband  or  father 
when  I  am  mad.  I  am  a  perfect  simoom  of  wrath  at  such  times,  and  I  am 
not  responsible  for  what  I  do. 

Nothing  can  arouse  the  indignation  of  your  friends,  regardless  of  party,  so 
much  as  the  thought  that  while  you  are  working  so  hard  in  the  postoffice  at 
"Washington  with  your  coat  off,  collecting  box  rent  and  making  up  the  West- 
ern mail,  the  remorseless  engraver  and  electrotyper  are  seeking  to  down  you 
by  making  pictures  of  you  in  which  you  appear  either  as  a  dude  or  a  tough. 

"While  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  being  a  member  of  your  party,  having 
belonged  to  what  has  been  sneeringly  alluded  to  as  the  g.  o.  p.,  I  cannot 
refrain  from  expressing  my  sympathy  at  this  time.  Though  we  may  have 
differed  heretofore  upon  important  questions  of  political  economy,  I  cannot 
exult  over  these  portraits.  Others  may  gloat  over  these  efforts  to  injure  you, 
but  I  do  not.  I  am  not  much  of  a  e-loater,  anvliow. 
I  leave  those  to  gloat  who  are  in  the  gloat  business. 

Still,  it  is  one  of  the  drawbacks  incident  to  greatness.     We  strugfcrle  hard 

■vthrough  life  that  we  may  win  the  confidence  of  our  fellow- men,  only  at  last 

to  have  i^ictures  of  ourselves  printed  and  distributed  where  they  will  injure  us. 

I  desire  to  add  before  closing  this  letter,  Mr.  Vilas, 
that  with  those  who  are  acquainted  with  you  and  know 
your  sterling  worth,  these  portraits  will  make  no  differ- 
ence. We  will  not  allow  them  to  influence  us  socially 
or  politically.  What  the  effect  may  be  upon  offensive 
partisans  who  are  total  strangers  to  you,  I  do  not  know. 
My  theory  in  relation  to  these  cuts  is,  that  they 
are  combined  and  interchangeable,  so  that,  with  slight 
modifications,  they  are  used  for  all  great  men.  The 
cut,  with  the  extras  that  go  with  it,  consists  of  one  head 
with  hair  (front  view),  one  bald  head  (front  view),  one 
head  with  hair  (side  view),  one  bald  head  (side  view), 
one  pair  eyes  (with  glasses),  one  pair  eyes  (plain), 
one  Homan  nose,  one  Grecian  nose,  one  turn-up  nose, 
one  set  whiskers  (full),  one  moustache,  one  pair  side- 
whiskers,  one  chin,  one  set  large  ears,  one  set  medium  ears,  one  set  small  ears, 
one  set  shoulders,  with  collar  and  necktie  for  above,  one  monkey-wrench,  one 


ASSORTED  PHYSIOG- 
NOMY. 


ABOUT   ror.TIlAITS.  113 

set  quoins,  one  galley,  one  oil-can,  one  s:^rGW(lriycr.  These  different  features 
are  then  arranged  so  that  a  great  variety  of  clergymen,  murderers,  senators, 
embezzlers,  artists,  dynamiters,  humorists,  arsonists,  larcenists,  poets,  states- 
men, base  ball  players,  rinkists,  pianists,  capitalists,  bigamists  and  sluggists 
are  easily  represented.  No  newspaper  office  should  be  without  them.  They 
are  very  simple,  and  any  child  can  easily  learn  to  operate  it.  They  are  invalu- 
able in  all  cases,  for  no  one  knows  at  what  moment  a  revolting  crime  may  be 
committed  by  a  comparatively  unknown  man,  whose  portrait  you  wish  to  give, 
and  in  this  age  of  rapid  political  transformations,  presentations  and  combina- 
tions, no  enterprising  paper  should  delay  the  acquisition  of  a  combined  portrait 
for  the  use  of  its  readers. 

Hoping  that  you  are  well,  and  that  you  will  at  once  proceed  to  let  no  guilty 
man  escape,  I  remain,  yours  truly,  Bill  Nye. 


Jt?e  Old  Soutl?. 

HE  Old  South  Meeting  House,  in  Boston,  is  the  most  remarkable  struc- 
ture in  many  respects  to  he  found  in  that  remarkable  city.     Always 


eager  wherever  I  go  to  search  out  at  once  the  gospel  privileges,  it  is 
^"^  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  I  should  have  gone  to  the  Old  South  the 
first  day  after  I  landed  in  Boston. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  go  over  the  history  of  the  Old  South,  except, 
perhaps,  to  refresh  the  memory  of  those  who  live  outside  of  Boston.  The  Old 
South  Society  was  organized  in  1609,  and  the  ground  on  Avhich  the  old  meeting- 
house now  stands  was  given  by  Mrs.  Norton,  tlie  widow  of  Eev.  John  Norton, 
since  deceased.  The  first  structure  was  of  wood,  and  in  1720  the  present 
brick  building  succeeded  it.  King's  Handbook  of  Boston  says:  "It  is  one  of 
the  few  historic  buildings  that  have  been  allowed  to  remain  in  this  iconoclastic 
age." 

So  it  seems  that  they  are  troubled  with  iconoclasts  in  Boston,  too.  I 
thought  I  saw  one  hanging  around  the  Old  South  on  the  day  I  was  there,  and 
had  a  good  notion  to  point  him  out  to  the  authorities,  but  thought  it  was  none 
of  my  business. 

I  went  into  the  building  and  registered,  and  then  from  force  of  habit  or 
absent-mindedness  handed  my  umbrella  over  the  counter  and  asked  how  soon 
supper  would  be  ready.  Everybody  registers,  but  very  few,  I  am  told,  ask  how 
soon  supper  will  be  ready.  The  Old  South  is  now  run  on  the  European  plan, 
however. 

The  old  meeting-house  is  chieflv  remarkable  for  the  associations  that  cluster 
around  it.  Two  centuries  hover  about  the  ancient  weather-vane  and  look  down 
upon  the  visitor  when  the  weather  is  favorable. 

Benjamin  Franklin  was  baptized  and  attended  worship  here,  prior  to  his 
wonderful  invention  of  lightning.  Here  on  each  succeeding  Sabbath  sat  the 
man  who  afterwards  snared  the  forked  lightning  with  a  string  and  put  it  in  a 
jug  for  future  generations.  Here  Whitefield  preached  and  the  rebels  discussed 
the  tyranny  of  the  British  king.     Warren  delivered  his  famous  speech  here 

(n4) 


THE    OLD    SOUTH. 


115 


upon  tlie  anniversary  of  the  Boston  massacre  and  the  "tea  party"  organized 
in  this  same  building.  Two  hundred  years  ago  exactly,  the  British  used  the 
Old  South  as  a  military  riding 
school,  although  a  majority  of  the 
people  of  Boston  were  not  in  favor 
or  it. 

It  would  be  well  to  pause  here 
and  consider  the  trying  situation 
in  which  our  ancestors  were  placed 
at  that  time.  Coming  to  Massa- 
chusetts as  they  did,  at  a  time  when 
the  country  v/as  new  and  prices 
extremely  high,  they  had  hoped  to 
escape  from  oppression  and  estab- 
lish themselves  so  far  away  from 
the  tyrant  that  he  could  not  come 
over  here  and  disturb  them  with- 
out suffering  from  the  extreme 
nausea  incident  to  a  long  sea  voy- 
age. Alas,  however,  when  they 
landed  at  Plymouth  rock  there 
was  not  a  decent  hotel  in  the  place. 
The  same  stern  and  rock-bound 
coast  which  may  be  discovered 
along  the  Atlantic  sea-board  to-day 
was  there,  and  a  cruel,  relentless 
sky  frowned  upon  their  endeavors.  ^'''-  franklin  experiments. 

Where  prosperous  cities  now  flaunt  to  the  sky  their  proud  domes  and  float- 
ing debts,  the  rank  jimson  weed  nodded  in  the  wind  and  the  pumpkin  pie  of 
to-day  still  slumbered  in  the  bosom  of  the  future.  What  glorious  facts  have, 
under  the  benign  influence  of  fostering  centuries,  been  born  of  apparent  im- 
possibility. What  giant  certainties  have  grown  through  these  years  from  the 
seeds  of  doubt  and  discouragement  and  uncertainty!  (Big  firecrackers  and 
applause. ) 

At  that  time  our  ancestors  had  but  timidly  embarked  in  the  forefather 
business.     They  did  not  know  that  future  generations  in  four-button  cutaways 


116  EMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

would  rise  up  and  call  them  blessed  and  pass  resolutions  of  respect  on  their 
untimely  death.  If  they  stayed  at  home  the  king  taxed  them  all  <nit  of  shape, 
and  if  they  went  out  of  Boston  a  few  rods  to  get  enough  huckleberries  for 
breakfast,  they  would  fi-equently  come  home  so  full  of  Indian  arrows  that  they 
could  not  get  through  a  common  door  without  great  pain. 

Such  was  the  early  history  of  the  country  where  now  cultivation  and  educa- 
tion and  refinement  run  rampant  and  people  sit  up  all  night  to  print  newsj)apers 
so  that  we  can  have  them  in  the  morning. 

The  land  on  which  the  Old  South  stands  is  very  valuable  for  business  pur- 
poses, and  3^:00,000  will  have  to  be  raised  in  order  to  preserve  the  old  land- 
mark to  future  generations.  I  earnestly  hope  that  it  will  be  secured,  and  that 
the  old  meeting-house — dear  not  alone  to  the  people  of  Boston,  but  to  the 
millions  of  Americans  scattered  from  sea  to  S3a,  who  cannot  forget  where  first 
universal  freedom  plumed  its  wings — will  be  spared  to  entertain  within  its 
hospitable  walls,  enthusiastic  and  reverential  visitors  for  ages  without  end. 


f^pii^l^ts  of  tl?e  per?. 


W^^'^CT^^^  7^^  ^o^®  *o  tliink  of  it,  it  is  surprising  that  so  many  news- 

iWiiW/i"    P'^^P®^*  ^®^  ^^"^^®  ^°  *^^^^  ^^^y  ^'^^^  ^^^^  ''^^  expert  can  read  it.     The 

y  ft  t J    rapid  and  voluminous  work,  especially  of  daily  journalism,  knocks 

c/'^^    the  beautiful  business  college  penman,  as  a  rule,  higher  than  a 

kite.     I  still  have  specimens  of  my  own  handwriting  that  a  total  stranger  could 

read. 

I  do  not  remember  a  newspaper  acquaintance  whose  penmanship  is  so 
characteristic  of  the  exacting  neatness  and  sharp,  clear  cut  style  of  the  man,  as 
is  that  of  Eugene  Field,  of  the  Chicago  News.  As  the  "Nonpareil  Writer"  of 
the  Denver  Tribune,  it  was  a  mystery  to  me  when  he  did  the  work  which  the 

paper  showed  each  day  as  his  own.  You  would 
sometimes  find  him  at  his  desk,  writing  on  large 
sheets  of  "print  paper"  with  a  pen  and  violet  ink, 
in  a  hand  that  was  as  delicate  as  the  steel  plate  of 
a  bank  note  and  the  kind  of  work  that  printers 
would  skirmish  for.  He  would  ask  you  to  sit 
down  in  the  chair  opposite  his  desk,  which  had 
two  or  three  old  exchanges  thrown  on  it.  He 
would  probably  say,  "Never  mind  those  papers. 
I've  read  them.  Just  sit  down  on  them  if  you 
want  to."  Encouraged  by  his  hearty  manner, 
you  would  sit  down,  and  you  would  continue  to 
sit  down  till  you  had  protruded  about  three-fourths  of  your  system  through 
that  hollow  mockery  of  a  cliaii".  Then  he  would  run  to  help  you  out  and  curse 
the  chair,  and  feel  pained  because  he  had  erroneously  given  you  the  ruin  with 
no  seat  to  it.  He  always  felt  pained  over  such  things.  He  always  suffered 
keenly  and  felt  shocked  over  the  accident  until  you  had  gone  away,  and  then 
he  would  sigh  heavily  and  "set"  the  chair  again. 

Frank  Pixley,  the  editor  of  the  San  Francisco  Ar'gonaut,  is  not  beautiful, 
though  the  Argonaut  is.     He  is  grim   and  rather  on  the  Moses  Montefiore 


THE   RUIN. 


118 


REMARKS   BY    BILL   NYE. 


style  of  countenance,  but  his  liand-writing  does  not  convey  the  idea  of  the  man 
personally,  or  his  style  of  dealing  with  the  Chinese  question.  It  is  rather 
young  looking,  and  has  the  uncertain  manner  of  an  eighteen-year-old  boy. 

Eobert  J.  Burdette  writes  a  small  but  plain  hand,  though  he  sometimes 
suffers  from  the  savage  typographical  error  that  steals  forth  at  such  a  moment 
as  ye  think  not,  and  disfigures  and  tears  and  mangles  the  bright  eyed  childi'eu 
of  the  brain. 

Very  often  we  read  a  man's  work  and  imagine  we  shall  find  him  like  it, 
cheery,  bright  and  entertaining ;  but  we  know  him  and  find  that  personally  he 
is  a  refi-igerator,  or  an  egotist,  or  a  man  with  a  torpid  liver  and  a  nose  like  a 
rose  geranium.  You  will  not  be  disappointed  in  Bob  Burdette,  however, 
You  think  you  will  like  him,  and  you  always  do.  He  will  never  be  too  famous 
to  be  a  gentleman. 

George  W.  Peck's  hand  is  of  the  fi-ee  and  independent  order  of  chirog- 
raphy.  It  is  easy  and  natural,  but  not  handsome.  He  writes  very  volumin- 
ously, doing  his  editorial  writing  in  two  days  of  the  week,  generally  Friday  and 
Saturday.  Then  he  takes  a  rapid  horse,  a  zealous  bird  dog  and  an  improved 
double  barrel  duck  destroyer  and  communes  with  nature. 

Sam  Davis,  an  old  time  Californian,  and  now  in  Nevada,  writes  the  freest 
of  any  penman  I  know.  When  he  is  deliberate,  he  may  be  betrayed  into  mak- 
ing a  deformed  letter  and  a  crooked  mark  attached  to  it,  which  he  character- 
izes as  a  word.  He  puts  a  lot  of  these  together  and  actually  pays  postage  on 
the  collection  under  the  delusion  that  it  is  a  letter,  that  it  will  reach  its  desti- 
nation, and  that  it  will  accomplish  its  object. 

He  makes  up  for  his  bad  writing,  however,  by  being  an  unpublished  vol- 
ume of  old  time  anecdotes  and  funny  experiences. 

Goodwin,  of  the  old  Territorial  Enterprise,  and  Mark  Twain's  old  em- 
ployer, writes  with  a  pencil  in  a  methodical  manner  and  very  plainly.  The 
way  he  sharpens  a  "hard  medium"  lead  pencil  and  skins  the  apostle  of  the  so- 
called  Chui-ch  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter  Day  Saints,  makes  my  heart  glad. 
Hardly  a  day  passes  that  his  life  is  not  threatened  by  the  low  browed  thumpers 
of  Mormondom,  and  yet  the  old  war  horse  raises  the  standard  of  monogamy 
and  under  the  motto,  "  One  country,  one  flag  and  one  wife  at  a  time,"  he 
smokes  his  old  meerschaum  pipe  and  writes  a  column  of  razor  blades  every 
day.  He  is  the  buzz  saw  upon  which  polygamy  has  tried  to  sit.  Fighting 
these  rotten  institutions  hand  to  hand  and  fighting  a  religious  eccentricity 


fiNIGHTS   OF'  TH'E   PEN.  119' 

^lirougii  an  annual  message,  or  a  feeble  act  of  congress,  are  two  separate  and 
distinct  things. 

If  I  had  a  little  more  confidence  in  my  longevity  than  I  now  have,  I  would 
go  down  there  to  the  Valley  of  the  Jordan,  and  I  would  gird  up  my  loins,  and 
I  would  wi"ite  with  that  lonely  warrior  at  Salt  Lake,  and  with  the  aid  and  en- 
(?ouragement  of  our  brethren  of  the  press  who  do  hot  favor  the  right  of  one' 
man  to  marry  an  old  woman's  home,  we  would  rotten  egg  the  bogus  Temple  of 
Zion  till  the  civilized  world,  with  a  patent  clothes  pin  on  its  nose,  would  come 
and  see  what  was  the  matter. 

I  see  that  my  zeal  has  led  me  away  from  my  original  subject,  but  I  ha\Ti't 
time  to  regret  it  now. 


E[}9.  U/ild  (^ou/. 


Q^iS>^ 


-HEN  I  was  young  and  used  to  roam  around  over  the  country,  gath- 
|J  ering  water-melons  in  the  light  of  the  moon,  I  used  to  think  I  could 
J  milk  anybody's  cow,  but  I  do  not  think  so  now.  I  do  not  milk  a 
■^  coAV  now  unless  the  sign  is  right,  and  it  hasn't  been  right  for  a  good 
many  years.  The  last  cow  I  tried  to  milk  was  a  common  cow,  born  in  obscu- 
rity ;  kind  of  a  self-made  cow.  I  remember  her  brow  was  low,  but  she  wore 
her  tail  high  and  she  was  haughty,  oh,  so  haughty. 

I  made  a  common-place  remark  to  her,  one  that  is  used  in  the  very  best 
of  society,  one  that  need  not  have  given  offence  anywhere.  I  said  "So" — and 
she  "soed."  Then  I  told  her  to  "hist"  and  she  histed.  But  I  thought  she 
overdid  it.     She  put  too  much  expression  in  it. 

Just  then  I  heard  something  crash  through  the  window  of  the  barn  and 
fall  with  a  dull,  sickening  thud  on  the  outside.  The  neighbors  came  to  see 
what  it  was  that  caused  the  noise.  They  found  that  I  had  done  it  in  getting 
through  the  window. 

I  asked  the  neighbors  if  the  barn  was  still  standing.  They  said  it  was. 
Then  I  asked  if  the  cow  was  injured  much.  They  said  she  seemed  to  be  quite 
robust.  Then  I  requested  them  to  go  in  and  calm  the  cow  a  little,  and  see  if 
they  could  get  my  plug  hat  off  her  horns. 

I  am  buying  all  my  milk  now  of  a  milkman.  I  select  a  gentle  milkman 
who  will  not  kick,  and  feel  as  though  I  could  trust  liim.  Then,  if  he  feels  as 
though  he  could  trust  me,  it  is  all  right. 

(180) 


THE   WILD   COW. 


121 


Spiral  /T\e9i9(^itiS. 


'll^^l  ^  iiiany  people  liave  shown  a  pardonable  curiosity  about  the  above  named 
'N^^^  disease,  and  so  few  have  a  very  clear  idea  of  the  thrill  of  pleasure  it 
affords  the  patient,  unless  they  have  enjoyed  it  themselves,  that  I  have 
decided  to  briefly  say  something  in  answer  to  the  innumerable  inquiries 
I  have  received. 

Up  to  the  moment  I  had  a  notion  of  getting  some  meningitis,  I  had  never 
employed  a  physician.  Since  then  I  have  been  thrown  in  their  society  a  great 
deal.  Most  of  them  were  very  pleasant  and  scholarly  gentlemen,  who  will  not 
soon  be  forgotten ;  but  one  of  them  doctored  me  first  for  pneumonia,  then  for 
inflammatory  rheumatism,  and  finally,  when  death  was  contiguous,  advised  me 
that  I  must  have  change  of  scene  and  rest. 

I  told  him  that  if  he  kept  on  prescribing  for  me,  I  thought  I  might  depend 
on  both.  Change  of  physicians,  however,  saved  my  life.  This  horse  doctor, 
a  few  weeks  afterward,  administered  a  subcutaneous  morphine  squirt  in  the  arm 
of  a  healthy  servant  girl  because  she  had  the  headache,  and  she  is  now  with 
the  rest  of  this  veterinarian's  patients  in  a  land  that  is  fairer  than  this. 

She  lived  six  hours  after  she  was  prescribed  for.  He  gave  her  change  of 
scene  and  rest.  He  has  quite  a  thriving  little  cemetery  filled  with  people  who 
have  succeeded  in  cording  up  enough  of  his  change  of  scene  and  rest  to  last 
them  through  all  eternity.  He  was  called  once  to  prescribe  for  a  man  whose 
head  had  been  caved  in  by  a  stone  match-box,  and,  after  treating  the  man  for 
asthma  and  blind  staggers,  he  prescribed  rest  and  change  of  scene  for  him, 
too.  The  poor  asthmatic  is  now  breathing  the  extremely  rarified  air  of  the 
New  Jerusalem. 

Meningitis  is  derived  from  the  Latin  Meninges,  membrane,  and — itis,  an 
afiSx  denoting  inflammation,  so  tliat,  strictly  speaking,  meningitis  is  the  inflam- 
mation of  a  membrane,  and  when  applied  to  the  spine,  or  cerebrum,  is  called 
spinal  meningitis,  or  cerebro-spinal  meningitis,  etc.,  according  to  the  part  of 
the  spine  or  brain  involved  in  the  inflammation.  Meningitis  is  a  characteristic 
and  result  of  so-called  spotted  fever,  and  by  many  it  is  deemed  identical 
with  it. 


SPINAL   MENINGITIS.  123 

When  we  come  to  consider  that  the  spinal  cord,  or  marrow,  runs  down 
through  the  long,  bony  shaft  made  by  the  A^ertebrae,  and  that  the  brain  and 
spine,  though  connected,  are  bound  up  in  one  continuous  bony  wall  and  cov- 
ered with  this  inflamed  membrane,  it  is  not  difficult  to  understand  that  the 
thing  is  very  hard  to  get  at.  If  your  throat  gets  inflamed,  a  doctor  asks  you 
to  run  your  tongue  out  into  society  about  a  yard  and  a  half,  and  he  pries  your 
mouth  open  with  one  of  Eogers  Brothers'  spoon  handles.  Then  he  is  able  to 
examine  your  throat  as  he  would  a  page  of  the  Congressional  Record,  and  to 
treat  it  with  some  local  application.  When  you  have  spinal  meningitis,  how- 
ever, the  doctor  tackles  you  with  bromides,  ergots,  ammonia,  iodine,  chloral 
hydrate,  codi,  bromide  of  ammonia,  hasheesh,  bismuth,  valerianate  of  ammo- 
nia, morphine  sulpli.,  nux  vomica,  turpentine  emulsion,  vox  humana,  rex  mao-- 
nus,  opium,  cantharides,  Dover's  powders,  and  other  bric-a-brac.  These  rem- 
edies are  masticated  and  acted  upon  by  the  salivary  glands,  passed  down  the 
esophegus,  thrown  into  the  society  of  old  gastric,  submitted  to  the  peculiar 
motion  of  the  stomach  and  thoroughly  chymified,  then  forwarded  throuo-h  the 
pyloric  orifice  into  the  smaller  intestines,  where  they  are  touched  up  with  bile, 
and  later  on  handed  over  through  the  lacteals,  thoracic  duct,  etc.,  to  the  vast 
circulatory  system.  Here  it  is  yanked  back  and  forth  through  the  heart,  lungs 
and  capillaries,  and  if  anything  is  left  to  fork  over  to  the  disease,  it  has  to 
squeeze  into  the  long,  bony,  air-tight  socket  that  holds  the  spinal  cord.  All 
this  is  done  without  seeing  the  patient's  spinal  cord  before  or  after  taking.  If 
it  could  be  taken  out,  and  hung  over  a  clothes  line  and  cleansed  with  benzine, 
and  then  treated  Avitli  insect  powder,  or  rolled  in  corn  meal,  or  preserved  in 
alcohol,  and  then  put  back,  it  would  be  all  right ;  but  you  can't.  You  pull  a 
man's  spine  out  of  his  system  and  he  is  bound  to  miss  it,  no  matter  how  care- 
ful you  have  been  about  it.  It  is  difficult  to  keep  house  without  the  spine. 
You  need  it  every  time  you  cook  a  meal.  If  the  spinal  cord  could  be  pulled 
by  a  dentist  and  put  away  in  pounded  ice  every  time  it  gets  a  hot-box,  spinal 
meningitis  would  ]ose  its  stinger. 

I  was  treated  by  thirteen  physicians,  whose  names  I  may  give  in  a  future 
article.  They  were,  as  I  said,  men  I  shall  long  remember.  One  of  them  said 
very  sensibly  that  meningitis  was  generally  over-doctored.  I  told  him  that  I 
agreed  with  him.  I  said  that  if  I  should  have  another  year  of  meningitis  and 
thirteen  more  doctors,  I  would  have  to  postpone  my  tri])  to  Europe,  where  I 
had  hoped  to  go  and  cultivate  my  voice.     I've  got  a  perfectly  lovely  voice,  if  I 


124  EEMAEKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

could  take  it  to  Europe  and  liave  it  sand-papered  and  varnished,  and  mellowed 
down  with  beer  and  bologna. 

But  I  was  speaking  of  my  physicians.  Some  time  I'm  going  to  give  their 
biographies  and  portraits,  as  they  did  those  of  Dr.  Bliss,  Dr.  Barnes  and 
others.  Next  year,  if  I  can  get  railroad  rates,  I  am  going  to  hold  a  reunion 
of  my  physicians  in  Chicago.  It  will  be  a  pleasant  relaxation  for  them,  and 
will  save  the  lives  of  a  large  percentage  of  their  patients. 


SHi/T\mi9^  tf^e  fT[\\\y  U/ay. 


THE    COMET. 


HE  comet  is  a  kind  of  astronomical  parody  on  the  planet. 
Comets  look  some  like  planets,  but  they  are  thinner  and 
do  not  hurt  so  hard  when  they  hit  anybody  as  a  planet 
does.  The  comet  was  so  called  because  it  had  hair  on 
it,  I  believe,  but  late  years  the  bald-headed  comet  is  giv- 
ing just  as  good  satisfaction  everywhere. 

The  characteristic  features  of  a  comet  are :     A  nucleus, 
a  nebulous  light  or  coma,  and  usually  a  luminous  train 
or  tail  worn  high.     Sometimes  several  tails  are  observed 
on  one  comet,  but  this  occurs  only  in  flush  times. 

When  I  was  young  I  used  to  think  I  would  like  to  be  a  comet  in  the  sky, 
up  above  the  world  so  high,  with  nothing  to  do  but  loaf  around  and  play  with 
the  little  new-laid  planets  and  have  a  good  time,  but  now  I  can  see  where  I  was 
wrong.  Comets  also  have  their  troubles,  their  perihilions,  their  hyperbolas  and 
their  parabolas.  A  little  over  300  years  ago  Tycho  Brahe  discovered  that 
comets  were  extraneous  to  our  atmosphere,  and  since  then  times  have  improved. 
I  can  see  that  trade  is  steadier  and  potatoes  run  less  to  tows  than  they  did 
before. 

Soon  after  that  they  discovered  that  comets  all  had  more  or  less  periodicity. 
Nobody  knows  how  they  got  it.  All  the  astronomers  had  been  watching  them 
day  and  night  and  didn't  know  when  they  were  exposed,  but  there  was  no  time 
to  talk  and  argue  over  the  question.  There  were  two  or  three  hundi'ed  comets 
all  down  with  it  at  once.     It  was  an  exciting  time. 

Comets  sometimes  live  to  a  great  age.  This  shows  Ihat  the  night  air  is 
not  so  injurious  to  the  health  as  many  people  would  have  us  believe.  The 
great  comet  of  1780  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  one  that  was  noticed  about 
the  time  of  Caesar's  death,  44  B.  C,  and  still,  when  it  appeared  in  Newton's 
time,  seventeen  hundred  years  after  its  first  grand  farewell  tour,  Ike  said  tliat 
it  was  very  well  preserved,  indeed,  and  seemed  to  have  retained  all  its  faculties 
in  good  shape. 

(125) 


126 


REMARKS    BY    RILL    NYE. 


Astronomers  say  that  the  tails  of  all  comets  are  turned  from  the  sun.  I 
do  not  know  why  they  do  this,  whether  it  is  etiquette  among  them  or  just  a 
mere  habit. 

A  later  writer  on  astronomy  said  that  the  substance  of  the  nebulosity  and 
the  tail  is  of  almost  inconceivable  tenuity.     Ho  said  this  and  then  death  came  to 

his  relief.  Another  writer  says  of  the  comet  and 
its  tail  that  "the  curvature  of  the  latter  and  the 
acceleration  of  the  periodic  time  in  the  case  of 
Encke's  comet  indicate  their  being  affected  by  a 
resisting  medium  which  has  never  been  observed 
to  have  the  slightest  influence  on  the  planetary 
periods." 

I  do  not  fully  agree  with  the  eminent  authority, 
though  he  may  be  right.  Much  fear  has  been  the 
result  of  the  comet's  appearance  ever  since  the 
world  began,  and  it  is  as  good  a  thing  to  worry 
about  as  anything  I  know  of.  If  we  could  get 
close  to  a  comet  without  frightening  it  away,  we 
would  find  that  we  could  walk  through  it  anywhere  as  we  could  through  the 
glare  of  a  torchlight  procession.  We  should  so  live  that  we  will  not  be 
ashamed  to  look  a  comet  in  the  eye,  however.  Let  us  pay  up  our  newspaper 
subscription  and  lead  such  lives  that  when  the  comet  strikes  we  will  be  ready. 
Some  worry  a  good  deal  about  the  chances  for  a  big  comet  to  plow  into  the 
sun  some  dark,  rainy  night,  and  thus  bust  up  the  whole  universe.  I  wish  that 
was  all  I  had  to  worry  about.  If  any  respectable  man  will  agree  to  pay  my 
taxes  and  funeral  expenses,  I  will  agree  to  do  his  worrying  about  the  comet's 
crashing  into  the  bosom  of  the  sun  and  knocking  its  daylights  out. 


TYCHO   BRAKE   AT   WORK. 


THE  SUN. 


This  luminous  body  is  92,000,000  miles  from  the  earth,  though  there  have 
been  mornings  this  winter  when  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  further  than  that. 
A  railway  train  going  at  the  rate  of  40  miles  per  hour  would  be  263  years 
going  there,  to  say  nothing  of  stopping  for  fuel  or  water,  or  stopping  on  side 
tracks  to  wait  for  freight  trains  to  pass.  Several  years  ago  it  was  discovered 
that  a  slight  error  had  been  made  in  the  calculations  of  the  sun's  distance 


SKIMMING   THE   MILKY   WAY.  127 

from  tlie  earth,  and,  owing  to  a  misplaced  logarithm,  or  something  of  that  kind, 
a  mistake  of  3,000,000  miles  was  made  in  the  result.  People  cannot  be  too 
careful  in  such  matters.  Supposing  that,  on  the  strength  of  the  information 
contained  in  the  old  time-table,  a  man  should  start  out  Avith  only  provisions 
sufficient  to  take  him  89,000,000  miles  and  should  then  find  that  3,0000,000 
miles  still  stretched  out  ahead  of  him.  He  would  then  have  to  buy  fresh  figs 
of  the  train  boy  in  order  to  sustain  life.  Think  of  buying  nice  fresh  figs  on 
a  train  that  had  been  en  route  250  years! 

Imagine  a  train  boy  starting  out  at  ten  years  of  age,  and  perishing  at  the 
age  of  60  years  with  only  one-fifth  of  his  journey  accomplished.  Think  of 
five  train  boys,  one  after  the  other,  dying  of  old  age  on  the  way,  and  the  train 
at  last  pulling  slowly  into  the  depot  with  not  a  living  thing  on  board  except 
the  worms  in  the  "nice  eating  apples!" 

The  sun  cannot  bo  examined  through  an  ordinary  telescope  with  impunity. 
Only  one  man  every  tried  that,  and  he  is  now  wearing  a  glass  eye  that  cost 
him  $9. 

If  you  examine  the  sun  through  an  ordinary  solar  microscope,  you  discover 
that  it  has  a  curdled  or  mottled  appearance,  as  though  suffering  from  bilious- 
ness. It  is  also  marked  here  and  there  by  long  streaks  of  light,  called  faculse, 
which  look  like  foam  flecks  below  a  cataract.  The  spots  on  the  sun  vary  from 
minute  pores  the  size  of  an  ordinary  school  district  to  spots  100,000  miles  in 
diameter,  visible  to  the  nude  eye.  The  center  of  these  spots  is  as  l)lack  as  a 
brunette  cat,  and  is  called  the  umbra,  so  called  because  it  resembles  an  umbrella. 
The  next  circle  is  less  dark,  and  called  the  penumbra,  because  it  so  closely 
resembles  the  penumbra. 

There  are  many  theories  regarding  these  spots,  but,  to  be  perfectly  candid 
with  the  gentle  reader,  neither  Prof.  Proctor  nor  myself  can  tell  exactly  what 
they  are.  If  we  could  get  a  little  closer,  we  flatter  ourselves  that  we  could 
speak  more  definitely.  My  own  theory  is  they  are  either,  first,  open  air  caucuses 
held  by  the  colored  people  of  the  sun ;  or,  second,  they  may  be  the  dark  horses 
in  the  campaign;  or,  third,  they  may  be  the  spots  knocked  off  the  defeated 
candidate  by  the  opposition. 

Frankly,  however,  I  do  not  believe  either  of  these  theories  to  be  tenable. 
Prof.  Proctor  sneers  at  these  theories  also  on  the  ground  that  these  spots  do 
not  appear  to  revolve  so  fast  as  the  sun.  This,  however,  I  am  prepared  to 
explain  upon  the  theory  that  this  might  be  the  result  of  delays  in  the  returns. 


128 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


However,   I  am  free    to    confess    tliat   speculative   science  is  filled  with  the 
intangible. 

The  sun  revolves  upon  his  or  her  axletree,  as  the  case  may  be,  once  in  25 
to  28  of  our  days,  so  that  a  man  living  there  would  have  almost  two  years  to 
pay  a  30-day  note.  "We  should  so  live  that  when  we  come  to  die  we  may  go  at 
once  to  the  sun. 

Regarding  the  sun's  temperature,  Sir  John  Herschel  says  that  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  melt  a  shell  of  ice  covering  its  entire  surface  to  a  depth  of  40  feet.     I 
do  not  know  whether  he  made  this  experiment  personally 
or  hired  a  man  to  do  it  for  him. 

The  sun  is  like  the  star  spangled  banner — as  it  is 
"still  there."  You  get  up  to-morrow  morning  just  be- 
fore sunrise  and  look  away  toward  the  east,  and  keep  on 
looking  in  that  direction,  and  at  last  you  will  see  a  fine 
siofht,  if  what  I  have  been  told  is  true.  If  the  sunrise 
is  as  grand  as  the  sunset,  it  indeed  must  be  one  of 
nature's  most  sublime  phenomena. 

The  sun  is  the  great  source  of  light  and  heat  for  our 
earth.  If  the  sun  were  to  go  somewhere  for  a  few  weeks 
for  relaxation  and  rest,  it  would  be  a  cold  day  for  us. 
The  moon,  too,  would  be  useless,  for  she  is  largely  de- 
Animal  life  would  soon  cease  and  real  estate  would  be- 
come depressed  in  price.  We  owe  very  much  of  our  enjoyment  to  the  sun, 
and  not  many  years  ago  there  were  a  large  number  of  people  who  worshiped 
the  sun.  When  a  man  showed  signs  of  emotional  insanity,  they  took  him  up 
on  the  observatory  of  the  temple  and  sacrificed  him  to  the  sun.  They  were  a 
very  prosperous  and  happy  people.  If  the  conqueror  had  not  come  among 
them  with  civilization  and  guns  and  grand  juries  they  would  have  been  very 
happy,  indeed. 

THE    STARS. 

There  is  much  in  the  great  field  of  astronomy  that  is  discouraging  to  the 
savant  who  hasn't  the  time  nor  means  to  rummage  around  through  the  heav- 
ens. At  times  I  am  almost  hopeless,  and  feel  like  saying  to  the  great  yearn- 
ful,  hungry  world:  "Grope  on  forever.  Do  not  ask  me  for  another  scientific 
fact.     Find  it  out  yourself.     Hunt  up  your  own  new-laid  planets,  and  let  me 


A   COLD   DAY. 


pendent  on  the  sun. 


SKIMMING    THE    MILKY    WAY.  129 

have  a  rest.     Never  ask  me  again  to  sit  up  all  night  and  take  care  of  a  new- 
born world,  while  you  lie  in  Led  and  reck  not." 

I  get  no  salary  for  examining  the  trackless  void  night  after  night  when  I 
ought  to  be  in  bed.  I  sacrifice  my  health  in  order  that  the  public  may  know 
at  once  of  the  presence  of  a  red-hot  comet,  fresh  from  the  factory.  And  yet, 
what  thanks  do  I  get? 

Is  it  surprising  that  every  little  while  I  contemplate  withdrawing  from  scien- 
tific research,  to  go  and  skin  an  eight-mule  team  down  through  the  dim  vista  of 
relentless  years? 

Then,  again,  you  take  a  certain  style  of  star,  which  you  learn  from  Profes- 
sor Simon  Newcomb  is  such  a  distance  that  it  takes  50,000  years  for  its  light  to 
reach  Boston,  Now,  we  will  suppose  that  after  looking  over  the  large  stock  of 
new  and  second-hand  stars,  and  after  examining  the  spring  catalogue  and 
price  list,  I  decide  that  one  of  the  smaller  size  will  do  me,  and  I  buy  it.  How 
do  I  know  that  it  was  there  when  I  bought  it?  Its  cold  and  silent  rays  may 
have  ceased  49,000  years  before  I  was  born  and  the  intelligence  be  still  on  the 
way.  There  is  too  much  margin  between  sale  and  delivery.  Every  now  and 
then  another  astronomer  comes  to  me  and  says:  "  Professor,  I  have  discovered 
another  new  star  and  intend  to  file  it.  Found  it  last  night  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  south  of  the  zenith,  running  loose.  Haven't  lieard  of  anybody  who  has 
lost  a  star  of  the  fifteenth  magnitude,  about  thirteen  hands  high,  with  light 
mane  and  tail,  have  you?"  Now,  how  do  I  know  that  he  has  discovered  a 
brand  new  star?  How  can  I  discover  whether  he  is  or  is  not  playing  an  old, 
threadbare  star  on  me  for  a  new  one? 

We  are  told  that  there  has  been  no  perceptible  growth  or  decay  in  the  star 
business  since  man  began  to  roam  around  through  space,  in  his  mind,  and 
make  figures  on  the  barn  door  with  red  chalk  showing  the  celestial  time  table. 

No  serious  accidents  have  occurred  in  the  starry  heavens  since  I  began  to 
observe  and  study  their  habits.  Not  a  star  has  waxed,  not  a  star  has  waned  to 
my  knowledge.  Not  a  planet  has  season-cracked  or  shown  any  of  the  injuri- 
ous effects  of  our  rigorous  climate.  Not  a  star  has  ripened  prematurely  or 
fallen  off  the  trees.  The  varnish  on  the  very  oldest  stars  I  find  on  close  and 
critical  examination  to  be  in  splendid  condition.  They  will  all  no  doubt  wear 
as  long  as  we  need  them,  and  wink  on  long  after  we  have  ceased  to  wink  back. 

In  1806  there  appeared  suddenly  in  the  northern  crown  a  star  of  about  the 
third  magnitude  and  worth  at  least  $250.      It  was  generally  conceded   by 


130 


EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


astronomers  that  this  was  a  brand  new 
star  that  had  never  been  used,  but  upon 
consulting  Argehmder's  star  catalogue  and 
price  list  it  was  found  that  this  was  not  a 
new  star  at  all,  l)ut  an  old,  faded  star  of 
the  ninth  magnitude,  with  the  front 
breadths  turned  wrong  side  out  and 
trimmed  with  moonlight  along  the  seams. 
After  a  few  days  of  phenomenal  bright- 
ness, it  gently  ceased  to  draw  a  salary  as 
a  star  of  the  third  magnitude,  and  walked 
home  with  an  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  company. 
It  is  such  things  as  this  that  make  the 
life  of  the  astronomer  one  of  constant  and 


discouraging  toil. 


I  have  long  contem- 


A  NIGHTLY  VIGIL. 


plated,  as  I  say,  the  advisability  of  retir- 
ing from  this  field  of  science  and  allowing 
others  to  light  the  northern  lights,  skim 
the  milky  way  and  do  other  celestial 
chores.  I  would  do  it  myself  cheerfully  if 
my  health  would  permit,  but  for  years  I  have  realized,  and  so  has  my  wife, 
that  my  duties  as  an  astronomer  kept  me  up  too  much  at  night,  and  my  wife 
is  certainly  right  about  it  when  she  says  if  I  insist  on  scanning  the  heavens 
night  after  night,  coming  home  late  with  the  cork  out  of  my  telescope  and  my 
eyes  red  and  swollen  with  these  exhausting  night  vigils,  I  will  be  cut  down  in 
my  prime.  So  I  am  liable  to  abandon  the  great  labor  to  which  I  had  intended 
to  devote  my  life,  my  dazzling  genius  and  my  princely  income.  I  hope  that 
other  savants  will  spare  me  the  pain  of  another  refusal,  for  my  mind  is  fully 
made  up  that  unless  another  skimmist  is  at  once  secured,  the  milky  way  will 
henceforth  remain  unskum. 


f\  '\\)n\\\r)<^  ExperieQce. 

HAD  a  very  thrilling  experience  the  other  evening.     I  had  just  filled  an 

engagement  in  a  strange  city,  and  retired  to  my  cozy  room  at  the  hotel. 
The  thunders  of  applause  had  died  away,  and  the  opera  house  had  been 
^'^^    locked  up  to  await  the  arrival  of  an  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  Company.      The 
last  loiterer  had  returned  to  his  home,  and  the  lights  in  the  palace  of  the  pork 
packer  were  extinguished. 

No  sound  was  heard,  save  the  low,  tremulous  swash  of  the  sleet  outside,  or 
the  death-rattle  in  the  throat  of  the  bath-tub.  Then  all  was  still  as  the  bosom 
of  a  fried  chicken  when  the  spirit  has  departed. 

The  swallow-tail  coat  hung  limp  and  weary  in  the  wardrobe,  and  the  gross 
receipts  of  the  evening  were  under  my  pillow.  I  needed  sleep,  for  I  was  worn 
out  with  travel  and  anxiety,  but  the  fear  of  being  robbed  kept  me  from  repose. 
I  know  how  desperate  a  man  becomes  when  he  yearns  for  another's  gold.  I 
know  how  cupidity  drives  a  wicked  man  to  mangle  his  victim,  that  he  may  win 
precarious  prosperity,  and  how  he  will  often  take  a  short  cut  to  wealth  by 
means  of  murder,  when,  if  lie  would  enter  politics,  he  might  accomplish  his 
purpose  as  surely  and  much  more  safely. 

Anon,  however,  tired  nature  succumbed.  I  know  I  had  succumbed,  for  the 
bell-boy  afterward  testified  that  he  heard  me  do  so. 

The  gentle  warmth  of  the  steam-heated  room,  and  the  comforting  assurance 
of  duty  well  done  and  the  approval  of  friends,  at  last  lulled  me  into  a  gentle 
repose. 

Anyone  who  might  have  looked  upon  me,  as  I  lay  there  in  that  innocent 
slumber,  with  the  winsome  mouth  slightly  ajar  and  the  playful  limbs  cast 
wildly  about,  while  a  merry  smile  now  and  then  flitted  across  the  regular 
features,  would  have  said  that  no  heart  could  be  so  hard  as  to  harbor  ill  for 
one  so  guileless  and  so  simple. 

I  do  not  know  what  it  was  that  caused  me  to  wake.     Some  slight  sound  or 

(1S1> 


132  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

other,  no  doubt,  broke  my  slumber,  and  I  opened  my  eyes  wildly.     The  room 
was  in  semi-darkness. 

Hark! 

A  slight  movement  in  the  corner,  and  the  low,  regular  breathing  of  a  human 
being !  I  Avas  now  wide  awake.  Possibly  I  could  have  opened  my  eyes  wider, 
but  not  without  spilling  them  out  of  their  sockets. 

Regularly  came  that  soft,  low  breathing.  Each  time  it  seemed  like  a  sigh 
of  relief,  but  it  did  not  relieve  me.  Evidently  it  was  not  done  for  that  purpose. 
It  sounded  like  a  sigh  of  blessed  relief,  such  as  a  woman  might  heave  after 
she  has  returned  from  church  and  transferred  herself  from  the  embrace  of  her 
new  Russia  iron,  black  silk  dress  into  a  friendly  Avrapper. 

Regularly,  like  the  rise  and  fall  of  a  wave  on  the  summer  sea,  it  rose  and 
fell,  while  my  pale  lambrequin  of  hair  rose  and  fell  fitfully  with  it. 

I  know  that  people  who  read  this  will  laugh  at  it,  but  there  was  nothing  to 
laugh  at.  At  first  I  feared  that  the  sigh  might  be  that  of  a  woman  who  had 
entered  the  room  through  a  transom  in  order  to  see  me,  as  I  lay  wrapt  in 
slumber,  and  then  carry  the  picture  away  to  gladden  her  whole  life. 

But  no.  That  was  hardly  possible.  It  was  cupidity  that  had  driven  some 
cruel  villain  to  enter  my  apartments  and  to  crouch  in  the  gloom  till  the  proper 
moment  should  come  in  which  to  spring  upon  me,  throttle  me,  crowd  a  hotel 
pillow  into  each  lung,  and,  while  I  did  the  Desdemona  act,  rob  me  of  my  hard- 
earned  wealth. 

Regularly  still  rose  the  soft  breathing,  as  though  the  robber  might  be  try- 
ing to  suppress  it.  I  reached  gently  under  the  pillow,  and  securing  the 
money  I  put  it  in  the  pocket  of  my  I'obe  de  unit.  Then,  with  great  care,  I 
pulled  out  a  copy  of  Smith  &  Wesson's  great  work  on  "How  to  Ventilate  the 
Human  Form."  I  said  to  myself  that  I  would  sell  my  life  as  dearly  as  possible, 
so  that  whoever  bought  it  would  always  regret  the  trade. 

Then  I  opened  the  volume  at  the  first  chapter  and  addressed  a  thirty-eight 
calibre  remark  in  the  direction  of  the  breath  in  the  corner. 

When  the  echoes  had  died  away  a  sigh  of  relief  welled  up  from  the  dark 
corner.     Also  another  sigh  of  relief  later  on. 

I  then  decided  to  light  the  gas  and  fight  it  out.  You  have  no  doubt  seen 
a  man  scratch  a  match  on  the  leg  of  his  pantaloons.  Perhaps  you  have  also 
seen  an  absent-minded  man  undertake  to  do  so,  forgetting  that  his  pantaloons 
were  hanging  on  a  chair  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 


A   THRILLING   EXPERIENCE.  133 

However,  I  lit  the  gas  with  my  left  hand  and  kept  my  revolver  pointed  to- 
ward the  dark  corner  where  the  breath  was  still  rising  and  falling. 

People  who  had  heard  my  lecture  came  rushing  in,  hoping  to  find  that  I  had 
suicided,  but  they  found  that,  instead  of  humoring  the  public  in  that  way,  I  had 
shot  the  valve  off  the  steam  radiator. 

It  is  humiliating  to  write  the  foregoing  myself,  but  I  would  rather  do  so 
than  have  the  affair  garbled  by  careless  hands. 


<5at(;f7i9^  a  Buffalo. 


PLEASING  anecdote  is  being  told  through  the  press  columns  recently, 

f  of  an  encounter  on  the  South  Platte,  which  occurred  some  years  ago 
!^  between  a  Texan  and  a  buffalo.  The  recital  sets  forth  the  fact  that 
the  Texans  went  out  to  hunt  buffalo,  hoping  to  get  enough  for  a  mess 
during  the  day.  Toward  evening  they  saw  two  gentlemen  buffalo  on  a  neigh- 
boring hill  near  the  Platte,  and  at  once  pursued  their  game,  each  selecting  an 
animal.  They  separated  at  once.  Jack  going  one  way  galloping  after  his  beast, 
while  Sam  went  in  the  other  direction.  Jack  soon  got  a  shot  at  his  game,  but 
the  bullet  only  tore  a  large  hole  in  the  fleshy  shoulder  of  the  bull  and  buried 
itself  in  the  neck,  maddening  the  animal  to  such  a  degree  that  he  turned  at 
once  and  charged  upon  horse  and  rider. 

The  astonished  horse,  with  the  wonderful  courage,  sagacity  and  sang  froid 
peculiar  to  the  broncho,  whirled  around  two  consecutive  times,  tangled  his  feet 
in  the  tall  grass  and  fell,  throwing  his  rider  about  fifty  feet.  He  then  rose 
and  walked  away  to  a  quiet  place,  where  he  could  consider  the  matter  and  give 
the  buffalo  an  opportunity  to  recover. 

The  infuriated  bull  then  gave  chase  to  Jack,  who  kept  out  of  the  way  for  a 
few  yards  only,  when,  getting  his  legs  entangled  in  the  grass,  he  fell  so  sud- 
denly that  his  pursuer  dashed  over  him  without  doing  him  any  bodily  injury. 
However,  as  the  animal  went  over  his  prostrate  form.  Jack  felt  the  buffalo's 
tail  brush  across  his  face,  and,  rising  suddenly,  he  caught  it  with  a  terrific 
grip  and  hung  to  it,  thus  keeping  out  of  the  reach  of  his  enemy's  horns,  till 
his  strength  was  just  giving  out,  when  Sam  hove  in  sight  and  put  a  large 
bullet  through  the  bull's  heart. 

This  tale  is  told,  apparently,  by  an  old  plainsman  and  scout,  who  reels  it 
off  as  though  he  might  be  telling  his  own  experience. 

Now,  I  do  not  wish  to  seem  captious  and  always  sticking  my  nose  into 
what  is  none  of  my  business,  but  as  a  logical  and  zoological  fact,  I  desire,  in 
my  cursory  way,  to  coolly  take  up  the  subject  of  the  buffalo  tail.  Those  who 
have  been  in  the  habit  of  killing  buffaloes,  instead  of  running  an  account  at 

(134) 


CATCHING   A    BUFFALO. 


135 


the  butcher  shop,  will  remember  that  this  noble  animal  has  a  genuine  camel's 
hair  tail  aboat  eight  inches  long,  with  a  chenille  tassel  at  the  end,  which  he 
throws  up  into  the  rarified  atmosphere  of  the  far  west,  whenever  he  is  surprised 
or  agitated. 

In  passing  over  a  prostrate  man,  therefore,  I  apprehend  that  in  order  to 
brush  his  face  with  the  average  buffalo  tail,  it  would  be  necessary  for  him  to 
sit  down  on  the  bosom 
of  the  prostrate  scout 
and  fan  his  features  with 
the  miniature  caudal 
bud. 

The  buffalo  does  not 
gallop  an  hundred  miles 
a  day,  dragging  his  tail 
across  the  bunch  grass 
and  alkali  of  the  bound- 
less plains. 

He  snorts  a  little, 
turns  his  bloodshot  eyes 
toward  the  enemy  a  mo- 
ment and  then,  throwing 
his  cunning  little  taillet 
over  the  dash-boardlet, 
he  wings  away  in  an  op- 
posite direction. 

The  man  who  could 
lie  on  his  back  and  grab 


-..-<z 


rJif^>- 


e^^ 


AN   UNEQUAL    MATCH. 


that  vision  by  the  tail 
would  have  to  be  moder- 
ately active.  If  he  suc- 
ceeded, however,  it  would  be  a  question  of  the  sixteenth  part  of  a  second  only, 
whether  he  had  his  arms  jerked  out  by  the  roots  and  scattered  through  space 
or  whether  he  had  strength  of  will  sufficient  to  yank  out  the  withered  little 
frizz  and  hold  the  quivering  ornament  in  his  hands.  Few  people  have  the 
moral  courage  to  follow  a  buffalo  around  over  half  a  day  holding  on  by  the 
tail.     It  is  said  that  a  Sioux  brave  once  tried  it,  and  they  say  his  tracks  were 


136  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

thirteen  miles  apart.  After  merrily  sauntering  around  witli  tlie  buffalo  one 
hour,  during  which  time  he  crossed  the  territories  of  Wyoming  and  Dakota 
twice  and  surrounded  the  regular  army  three  times,  he  became  discouraged 
and  died  from  the  injuries  he  had  received.  Perhaps,  however,  it  may  have 
been  fatigue. 

It  might  be  possible  for  a  man  to  catch  hold  of  the  meager  tail  of  a  meteor 
and  let  it  snatch  him  through  the  coming  years. 

It  might  be,  that  a  man  with  a  strong  constitution  could  catch  a  cyclone 
and  ride  it  bareback  across  the  United  tStates  and  then  have  a  fresh  one  ready 
to  ride  back  again,  but  to  catch  a  buffalo  bull  in  the  full  flush  of  manhood,  as 
it  were,  and  retain  his  tail  while  he  crossed  three  reservations  and  two  moun- 
tain ranges,  requires  great  tenacity  of  purpose  and  unusual  mental  equipoise. 

Remember,  I  do  not  regard  the  story  I  refer  to  as  false,  at  least  I  do  not 
wish  to  be  so  understood.  I  simply  say  that  it  recounts  an  incident  that  is 
rather  out  of  the  ordinary.  Let  the  gentle  reader  lie  down  and  have  a  Jack- 
rabbit  driven  across  his  face,  for  instance.  The  J.  Rabbit  is  as  likely  to  brush 
your  face  with  his  brief  and  erect  tail  as  the  buffalo  would  be.  Then  carefully 
note  how  rapidly  and  promptly  instantaneous  you  must  be.  Then  closely  at- 
tend to  the  manner  in  which  you  abruptly  and  almost  simultaneously,  have  not 
retained  the  tail  in  your  memory. 

A  few  people  may  have  successfully  seized  the  grieved  and  startled  buffalo 
bj  the  tail,  but  they  are  not  here  to  testify  to  the  circumstances.  They  are 
d<'*id,  abnormally  and  extremely  dead. 


J0I79  f\dafr\^. 


xFTER  viewing  tlie  birthplace  of  the  Adamses  out  at  Quincy  I  felt  more 
rA=\\/  reconciled  to  my  own  birthplace.  Comparing  the  house  in  which  I  was 
zltu±.  ^o^^  with  those  in  which  other  eminent  philanthropists  and  high-priced 
"'^^  statesmen  originated,  I  find  that  I  have  no  reason  to  complain. 
Neither  of  the  Adamses  were  born  in  a  larger  house  than  I  was,  and  for  gen- 
eral tone  and  eclat  of  front  yard  and  cook-room  on  behind,  I  am  led  to  believe 
that  I  have  the  advantage. 

John  Adams  was  born  before  John  Quincy  Adams.     A  popular  idea  seems 
to  prevail  in  some  sections  of  the  Union  that  inasmuch  as  John  Q.  was  bald 
headed,  he  was  the  elder  of  the  two;  but  I  inquired 
about  that  while  on  the  ground  where  they  were  both 
born,  and  ascertained  from  people  who  were  familiar 
with  the  circumstances,  that  John  was  born  first. 

John  Adams  was  the  second  president  of  the  United 
States.  He  was  a  lawyer  by  profession,  but  his  atten- 
tion was  called  to  politics  by  the  passage  of  the 
stamp  act  in  1765.  He  was  one  of  the  delegates  who 
represented  Massachusetts  in  the  first  Continental 
Congress,  and  about  that  time  he  wrote  a  letter  in 
which  he  said:  "The  die  is  now  cast;  I  have  passed 
the  rubicon.  Sink  or  swim,  live  or  die,  survive  or  per- 
ish with  my  country  is  my  unalterable  determination," 
Some  have  expressed  the  opinion  that  "the  rubicon"  alluded  to  by  Mr.  Adams 
in  this  letter  was  a  law  which  he  had  succeeded  in  getting  passed ;  but  this  is  not 
true.  The  idea  of  passing  the  rubicon  first  originated  with  Julius  Caesar,  a 
foreigner  of  some  note  who  flourished  a  good  deal  B.  C. 

In  June,  1776,  Mr.  Adams  seconded  a  resolution,  moved  by  Richard  Henry 
Lee,  that  the  United  States  "are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independ- 
ent." Whenever  Mr.  Adams  could  get  a  chance  to  whoop  for  liberty  now  and 
forever,  one  and  inseparable,  he  invariably  did  so. 

(137) 


PRESIDENTIAL  SIM- 
PLICITY. 


138  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

In  1796,  Mr.  Adams  ran  for  president.  In  the  convention  it  was  nip  and 
tuck  between  Thomas  Jefferson  and  himself,  but  Jefferson  was  understood  to 
be  a  Universalist,  or  an  Universalist,  whichever  would  look  the  best  in  print, 
and  so  he  only  got  68  votes  out  of  a  possible  139.  In  1800,  however,  Jefferson 
turned  the  tables  on  him,  and  Mr.  Adams  only  received  05  to  Jefferson's  73  votes. 

Mr.  Adams  made  a  good  president  and  earned  his  salary,  though  it  wasn't 
so  much  of  a  job  as  it  is  now.  When  there  was  no  Indian  war  in  those  days 
the  president  could  put  on  an  old  blue  flannel  shirt  and  such  other  clothes  as 
he  might  feel  disposed  to  adopt,  and  fish  for  bull-heads  in  the  Potomac  till  his 
nose  peeled  in  the  full  glare  of  the  fervid  sun. 

Now  it  is  far  different.  By  the  time  we  get  through  with  a  president  now- 
adays he  isn't  good  for  much.  Mr.  Hayes  stood  the  fatigue  of  being  presi- 
dent better,  perhaps,  than  any  other  man  since  the  republic  became  so  large  a 
machine.  Mr.  Hayes  went  home  to  Fremont  with  his  mind  just  as  fresh  and 
his  brain  as  cool  as  when  he  pulled  up  his  coat  tails  to  sit  down  in  the  presi- 
dential chair.  The  reason  why  Mr.  Hayes  saved  his  mind,  his  brain  and  his 
salary,  was  plain  enough  when  we  stop  to  consider  that  he  did  not  use  them 
much  during  his  administration. 

John  Quincy  Adams  was  the  sixth  president  of  the  United  States  and  the 
eldest  son  of  John  Adams.  He  was  one  of  the  most  eloquent  of  orators,  and 
shines  in  history  as  one  of  the  most  polished  of  our  eminent  and  bald-headed 
Americans.  When  he  began  to  speak,  his  round,  smooth  head,  to  look  down 
upon  it  from  the  gallery,  resembled  a  nice  new  billiard  ball,  but  as  he  warmed 
up  and  became  more  thoroughly  stirred,  his  intellectual  dome  changed  to  a 
delicate  pink.  Then,  when  he  rose  to  the  full  height  of  his  eloquent  flight, 
and  prepared  to  swoop  down  upon  his  adi^ersaries  and  carry  them  into  camp, 
it  is  said  that  his  smooth  intellectual  rink  was  as  red  as  the  flush  of  rosy  dawn 
on  the  5th  day  of  July. 

He  was  educated  both  at  home  and  abroad.  That  is  the  reason  he  was  so 
polished.  After  he  got  so  that  he  could  readily  spell  and  pronounce  the  most 
difficult  words  to  be  found  in  the  large  stores  of  Boston,  he  was  sent  to  Europe, 
where  he  acquired  several  foreign  tongues,  and  got  so  that  he  could  converse 
with  the  people  of  Europe  very  fluently,  if  they  were  familiar  with  English  as 
she  is  spoke. 

John  Quincy  Adams  was  chosen  president  by  the  House  of  Representatives, 
there  being  no  choice  in  the  electoral  contest,  Adams  receiving  84  votes,  Andrew 


JOHN  ADAMS.  139 

Jackson  99,  William  H.  Crawford  4i,  and  Henry  Clay  37.  Clay  stood  in  with 
Mr.  Adams  in  the  House  of  Bepresentatives  deal,  it  was  said,  and  was  appointed 
secretary  of  state  under  Mr,  Adams  as  a  result.  This  may  not  be  true,  but  a 
party  told  me  about  it  who  got  it  straight  from  Washington,  and  he  also  told 
nie  in  confidence  that  he  made  it  a  rule  never  to  prevaricate. 

Mr.  Adams  was  opposed  to  American  slavery,  and  on  several  occasions  in 
Congress  alluded  to  his  convictions. 

He  was  in  Congress  seventeen  years,  and  during  that  time  he  was  fre- 
quently on  his  feet  attending  to  little  matters  in  which  he  felt  an  interest,  and 
when  he  tbegan  to  make  allusions,  and  blush  all  over  the  top  of  his  head,  and 
kick  the  desk,  and  throw  ink-bottles  at  the  presiding  officer,  they  say  that  John 
Q.  made  them  pay  attention.  Seward  says,  "with  unwavering  firmness,  against 
a  bitter  and  unscrupulous  opposition,  exasperated  to  the  highest  pitch  by  his 
pertinacity — amidst  a  perfect  tempest  of  vituperation  and  abuse — he  persevered 
in  presenting  his  anti-slavery  petitions,  one  by  one,  to  the  amount  sometimes 
of  200  in  one  day."  As  one  of  his  eminent  biographers  has  truly  said: 
"  John  Quincy  Adams  was  indeed  no  slouch." 


5l?e  U/ail  of  a  U/ife. 

I'^^THEL"  lias  written  a  letter  to  me  and  asked  for  a  printed  reply. 
^Itf-^  Leaving  off  the  opening  sentences,  which  I  would  not  care  to  have 
]|M^i    fall  into  the  hands  of  my  wife,  her  note  is  about  as  follows: 

^^^^  " '■ Vt.,  Feb.  28, 1885. 

"My  Dear  Sir:  **  ****  **** 
*  *  *  *  *  *         *  [Tender  part  of  letter  omitted  for 

obvious  reasons.]  Would  it  be  asking  too  much  for  me  to  request  a  brief 
reply  to  one  or  two  questions  which  many  other  married  women  as  well  as 
myself  would  like  to  have  answered? 

I  have  been  married  now  for  five  years.  To-day  is  the  anniversary  of  my 
marriage.  When  I  was  single  I  was  a  teacher  and  supported  myself  in  com- 
fort. I  had  more  pocket-money  and  dressed  fully  as  well  if  not  better  than  I 
do  now.  Why  should  girls  who  are  abundantly  able  to  earn  their  own  liveli- 
hood struggle  to  become  the  slave  of  a  husband  and  children,  and  tie  them- 
selves to  a  man  when  they  might  be  free  and  happy  ? 

I  think  too  much  is  said  by  the  men  in  a  light  and  flippant  manner  about 
the  anxiety  of  young  ladies  to  secure  a  home  and  a  husband,  and  still  they  do 
deserve  a  part  of  it,  as  I  feel  that  I  do  now  for  assuming  a  great  burden  when 
I  was  comparatively  independent  and  comfortable. 

Now,  Avill  you  suggest  any  advice  that  you  think  would  benefit  the  yet 
unmarried  and  self-supporting  girls  who  are  liable  to  make  the  same  mistake 
that  I  did,  and  thus  warn  them  in  a  manner  that  would  be  so  much  more  uni- 
versal in  its  range,  and  reach  so  many  more  people  than  I  could  if  I  should 
raise  my  voice  ?     Do  this  and  you  will  be  gratefully  remembered  by 

Ethel." 

It  would  indeed  be  a  tough,  tough  man  who  could  ignore  thy  gentle  plea, 
Ethel;  tougher  far  than  the  pale,  intellectual  hired  man  who  now  addresses 
you  in  this  private  and  underhanded  manner,  unknown  to  your  husband. 
Please  destroy  this  letter,  Ethel,  as  soon  as  you  see  it  in  print,  so  that  it  will 
not  fall  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Ethel,  for  if  it  should,  I  am  gone.     If  your  hus- 

(140) 


THE   WAIL   OF   A   WIFE. 


141 


band  were  to  run  across  this  letter  in  tlie  public  press  I  could  never  look  him 
in  the  eye  again. 

You  say  that  you  had  more  pocket-money  before  you  were  married  than 
you  have  since,  Ethel,  and  you  regret  your  rash  step.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it. 
Yon  also  say  that  you  wore  better  clothes  when  you  were  single  than  you  do 
now.  You  are  also  pained  over  that.  It  seems  that  marriage  with  you  has 
not  paid  any  cash  dividends.  So  that  if  you  married  Mr.  Ethel  as  a  financial 
venture,  it  was  a  mistake.  You  do  not  state  how  it  has  affected  your  husband. 
Perhaps  he  had  more  pocket-money  and  better  clothes  before  he  married  than 
he  has  since.  Sometimes  two  people  do  well  in  business  by  themselves,  but 
when  they  go  into  partnership  they  bust  higher  than  a  kite,  if  you  will  allow 
me  the  free,  English  translation  of  a  Koman  expression  which  you  might  not 
fully  understand  if  I  should  give  it  to  you  in  the  original  Roman. 

Lots  of  self-supporting  young  la- 
dies have  married  and  had  to  go 
very  light  on  pin-money  after  that, 
and  still  they  did  not  squeal,  as  you, 
dear  Ethel.  They  did  not  marry  for 
revenue  only.  They  married  for  pro- 
tection. ( This  is  a  little  political  bon 
mot  which  I  thought  of  myself. 
Some  of  my  best  jokes  this  spring 
are  jokes  that  I  thought  of  myself. ) 

No,  Ethel,  if  you  married  expect- 
ing to  be  a  dormant  partner  during 
the  day  and  then  to  go  through  Mr. 
Ethel's  pantaloons  pocket  at  night 
and  declare  a  dividend,  of  course  life 
is  full  of  bitter,  bitter  regret  and  dis- 
appointment. Perhaps  it  is  also  for  Mr,  Ethel.  AnylK.w.  I  can't  help  feeling 
a  pang  of  sympathy  for  him.  You  do  not  say  that  he  is  unkind  or  that  he  so 
far  forgets  himself  as  to  wake  you  up  in  the  morning  with  a  harsh  tone  of 
voice  and  a  yearling  club.  You  do  not  say  that  he  asks  you  for  pocket-money, 
or,  if  so,  whether  you  give  it  to  him  or  not. 

Of  course  I  want  to  do  what  is  right  in  the  solemn  warning  business,  so  I 
will  give  notice  to  all  simple  young  women  who  are  now  self-supporting  and 


FOR  REVENUE  ONLY. 


142 


BEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


happy,  that  there  is  no  statute  requiring  them  to  assume  the  burdens  of  wife- 
hood and  motherhood  unless  they  prefer  to  do  so.  If  they  now  have  abund- 
ance of  i)in -money  and  new  clothes,  they  may  remain  single  if  they  wish  with- 
'out  violating  the  laws  of  the  land.  This  nile  is  also  good  when  applied  to 
young  and  self-supporting  young  men  who  wear  good  clothes  and  have  funds 
in  their  pockets.  No  young  man  who  is  free,  happy  and  independent,  need  in- 
vest his  money  in  a  family  or  carry  a  colicky  child  twenty-seven  miles  and  two 
laps  in  one  night  unless  he  prefers  it.  But  those  who  go  into  it  with  the  right 
spirit,  Ethel,  do  not  regret  it. 

I  would  just  as  soon  tell  you,  Ethel,  if  you  will  promise  that  it  shall  go 
no  farther,  that  I  do  not  wear  as  good  clothes  as  I  did  before  I  was 
married.  I  don't  have  to.  My  good  clothes  have  accomplished  what  I  got 
them  for.  I  played  them  for  all  they  were  worth,  and  since  I  got  married  the 
idea  of  wearing  clothes  as  a  vocation  has  not  occurred  to  me. 

Please  give  my  kind  regards  to  Mr.  Ethel,  and  tell  him  that  although  I  do 
not  know  him  personally,  I  cannot  help  feeling  sorry  for  him. 


Bui^Ker  f^ill. 


AST  week  for  the  first  time  I  visited  the  granite  obelisk  known  all  over 
["^   the  civilized  world  as  Bunker  Hill  monument.     Sixty  years  ago,  if  my 
memory  serves  me  correctly,  General  La  Fayette,  since  deceased,  laid 


"5K  the  corner-stone,  and  Daniel  Webster  made  a  few  desultory  remarks 
which  I  cannot  now  recall.  Eighteen  years  later  it  was  formally  dedicated, 
and  Daniel  spoke  a  good  piece,  composed  mostly  of  things  that  he  had  thought 
up  himself.  There  has  never  been  a  feature  of  the  early  history  and  unceas- 
ing struggle  for  American  freedom  which  has  so  roused  my  admiration  as  this 
custom,  quite  prevalent  among  congressmen  in  those  days,  of  writing  their 
own  speeches. 

Many  of  AVebster's  most  powerful  speeches  were  written  by  himself  or  at 
his  suggestion.  He  was  a  plain,  unassuming  man,  and  did  not  feel  above 
writing  his  speeches.  I  have  always  had  the  greatest  respect  and  admiration 
for  Mr.  AVebster  as  a  citizen,  as  a  scholar  and  as  an  extemporaneous  speaker, 
and  had  he  not  allowed  his  portrait  to  appear  last  year  in  the  Ccnfurjj,  wear- 
ing an  air  of  intense  gloom  and  a  plug  hat  entirely  out  of  style,  my  respect 
and  admiration  would  have  continued  indefinitely. 

Bunker  Hill  monument  is  a  great  success  as  a  monument,  and  the  view 
from  its  summit  is  said  to  be  well  worth  the  price  of  admission.  I  did  not 
ascend  the  obelisk,  because  the  inner  staircase  was  closed  to  visitors  on  the  day 
of  my  visit  and  the  lightning  rod  on  the  outside  looked  to  me  as  though  it  had 
been  recently  oiled. 

On  the  following  day,  however,  I  engaged  a  man  to  ascend  the  monument 
and  tell  me  his  sensations.  He  assured  me  that  they  were  first-rate.  At  the 
feet  of  the  spectator  Boston  and  its  environments  are  spread  out  in  the  glad 
sunshine.     Every  day  Boston  spreads  out  her  environments  just  that  way. 

Bunker  Hill  monument  is  221  feet  in  height,  and  has  been  entirely  ]iaid 
for.  The  spectator  may  look  at  the  monument  with  perfect  impunity,  without 
being  solicited  to  buy  some  of  its  mortgage  bonds.  This  adds  much  to  the  genu- 
ine thrill  of  pleasure  while  gazing  at  it, 

(148) 


144  KEMARKS   BY    BILL   NYE. 

There  is  a  Bunker  Hill  in  Macoupin  County,  Illinois,  also  in  Ingliam 
County,  Michigan,  and  in  liussell  County,  Kansas,  but  General  Warren  was 
not  killed  at  either  of  these  points. 

One  hundred  and  ten  years  ago,  on  the  17th  day  of  the  present  month,  one 
of  America's  most  noted  battles  Avith  the  British  was  fought  near  where  Bunker 
Hill  monument  now  stands.  In  that  battle  the  British  lost  1,050  in  killed  and 
wounded,  Avhile  the  American  loss  numbered  but  450.  While  the  people  of 
this  country  are  showing  such  an  interest  in  our  war  history,  I  am  surprised 
that  something  has  not  been  said  about  Bunker  Hill.  The  Federal  forces  from 
Eoxbury  to  Cambridge  were  under  command  of  General  Artemus  Ward,  the 
great  American  humorist.  When  the  American  humorist  really  puts  on  his 
war  paint  and  sounds  the  tocsin,  he  can  organize  a  great  deal  of  mourning. 

General  Ward  was  assisted  by  Putnam,  Starke,  Prescott,  Gridley  and  Pom- 
eroy.  Colonel  William  Prescott  was  sent  over  from  Cambridge  to  Charlestown 
for  the  purpose  of  fortifying  Bunker  Hill.  At  a  council  of  war  it  was  decided 
to  fortify  Breeds  Hill,  not  so  high  but  nearer  to  Boston  than  Bunker  Hill. 
So  a  redoubt  was  thrown  up  during  the  night  on  the  ground  where  the  monu- 
ment now  stands. 

The  British  landed  a  large  force  under  Generals  Howe  and  Pigot,  and  at 
2  P.  M.  the  Americans  were  reinforced  by  Generals  Warren  and  Pomeroy. 
General  Warren  was  of  a  literary  turn  of  mind  and  during  the  battle  took  his 
hat  off  and  recited  a  little  poem  beginning: 

"Stand,  the  ground's  yonr  own,  my  braves! 
Will  ye  give  it  np  to  slaves?  " 

A  man  who  could  deliver  an  impromptu  and  extemporaneous  address  like 
that  in  public,  and  while  there  was  such  a  bitter  feeling  of  hostility  on  the 
part  of  the  audience,  must  have  been  a  good  scholar.  In  our  great  fratricidal 
strife  twenty  years  ago,  the  inferiority  of  our  generals  in  this  respect  was 
painfully  noticeable.  We  did  not  have  a  commander  who  could  address  his 
troops  in  rhyme  to  save  his  neck.  Several  of  them  were  pretty  good  in  blank 
verse,  but  it  was  so  blank  that  it  was  not  just  the  thing  to  fork  over  to  poster- 
ity and  speak  in  school  afterward. 

Colonel  Prescott's  statue  now  stands  where  he  is  supposed  to  have  stood 
when  he  told  his  men  to  reserve  their  fire  till  they  saw  the  whites  of  the 
enemy's  eyes.  Those  who  have  examined  the  cast-iron  flint-lock  weapon  used 
in  those  days  will  admit  that  this  order  was  wise.     Those  guns  were  injurious 


BUNKER    HILL.  145 

to  healtli,  of  course,  when  used  to  excess,  but  not  necessarily  or  immediately 
fatal. 

At  the  time  of  the  third  attack  by  the  British,  the  Americans  were  out  of 
ammunition,  but  they  met  the  enemy  with  clubbed  muskets,  and  it  was  found 
that  one  end  of  the  rebel  flint-lock  was  about  as  fatal  as  the  other,  if  not 
more  so. 

Boston  still  meets  the  invader  with  its  club.  The  mayor  says  to  the  citi- 
zens of  Boston:  "Wait  till  you  can  see  the  whites  of  the  visitor's  eyes,  and 
then  go  for  him  with  your  clubs."     Then  the  visitor  surrenders. 

I  hope  that  many  years  may  pass  before  it  will  again  be  necessary  for  us 
to  soak  this  fair  land  in  British  blood.  The  boundaries  of  our  land  are  now 
more  extended,  and  so  it  would  take  more  blood  to  soak  it. 

Boston  has  just  reason  to  be  proud  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  it  was  certainly  a 
great  stroke  of  enterprise  to  have  the  battle  located  there.  Bunker  Hill  is 
dear  to  every  American  heart,  and  there  are  none  of  us  who  would  not  have 
cheerfully  gone  into  the  battle  then  if  we  had  known  about  it  in  time. 


f\  ljJ/T)b(?r  (^amp. 


^  HAVE  just  returned  from  a  little  impromptu  farewell  tour  in  the  lumber 
#  camps  toward  Lake  Superior.  It  was  my  idea  to  wade  around  in  the  snow 
'•J  1  for  a  few  weeks  and  swallow  baked  beans  and  ozone  on  the  ^  shell.  The 
'^  affair  was  a  success.  I  put  up  at  Bootjack  camp  on  the  raging  Willow 
River,  where  the  gay-plumaged  chipmunk  and  the  spruce  gum  have  their  home. 

Winter  in  the  pine  woods  is  fraught  with  fun  and  frolic.  It  is  more 
fraught  with  fatigue  than  funds,  however.  This  winter  a  man  in  the  Michi- 
gan and  Wisconsin  lumber  camps  could  arise  at  -4:30  A.  M.,  eat  a  patent  pail 
full  of  dried  apples  soaked  with  Young  Hyson  and  sweetened  with  Persian 
glucose,  go  out  to  the  timber  with  a  lantern,  hew  down  the  giants  of  the  for- 
est, with  the  snow  up  to  the  pit  of  his  stomach,  till  the  gray  owl  in  the  gath- 
ering gloom  whooped  and  hooted  in  derision,  and  all  for  ^12  per  month  and 
stewed  prunes. 

I  did  not  try  to  accumulate  wealth  while  I  was  in  camp.  I  just  allowed  others 
to  enter  into  the  mad  rush  and  wrench  a  fortune  from  the  hand  of  fate  while  I 
studied  human  nature  and  the  cook.  I  had  a  good  many  pleasant  days  there, 
too.  I  read  such  literary  works  as  I  could  find  around  the  camp  and  smoked 
the  royal  Havana  smoking  tobacco  of  the  cookee.  Those  who  have  not  lum- 
bered much  do  not  know  much  of  true  joy  and  sylvan  smoking  tobacco. 

They  are  not  using  a  very  good  grade  of  the  weed  in  the  lumber  regions  this 
winter.  When  I  say  lumber  regions  I  do  not  refer  entirely  to  the  circum- 
stances of  a  weak  back.  (Monkey-wrench,  oil  can  and  screwdriver  sent  with 
this  joke ;  also  rules  for  working  it  in  all  kinds  of  goods. )  The  tobacco  used 
by  the  pine  choppers  of  the  notheru  forest  is  called  the  Scandihoovian.  I  do 
not  know  why  they  call  it  that,  unless  it  is  because  yon  can  smoke  it  in  Wis- 
consin and  smell  it  in  Scandihoovia. 

AVhen  night  came  we  would  gather  around  the  blazing  fire  and  talk  over 
old  times  and  smoke  this  tobacco.  I  smoked  it  till  last  week,  then  I  bought  a 
new  mouth  and  resolved  to  lead  a  different  life. 

(146) 


A   LUMBER   CAMP. 


147 


I  shall  never  forgot  the  evenings  we  spent  together  in  that  log  shack 
in  the  heart  of  the  forest.  They  are  graven  on  my  memory  where  time's  effac- 
ing fingers  can  not  monkey  with  them.  We  would  most  always  converse. 
The  crew  talked  the  Norwegian  language  and  I  am  using  the  English  language 
mostly  this  winter.  So  each  enjoyed  himself  in  his  own  quiet  way.  This 
seemed  to  throw  the  Norwegians  a  good  deal  together.  It  also  threw  me  a 
good  deal  together.  The  Scandinavians  soon  learn  our  ways  and  our  lan- 
guage, but  prior  to  that  they  are  quite  clannish. 

The  cook,  however,  was  an  Ohio  man.  He  spoke  the  Sandusky  dialect  with 
a  rich,  nut  brown  flavor  that  did  me  much  good,  so  thifit  after  I  talked  with 


I   TOOK    A    PIE. 

the  crew  a  few  hours  in  English,  and  received  their  harsh,  corduroy  replies  in 
Norske,  I  gladly  fled  to  the  cook  shanty.  There  I  could  rapidly  chano-e  to 
the  smoothly  flowing  sentences  peculiar  to  the  Ohio  tongue,  and  while  I  ate 
the  common  twisted  doughnut  of  commerce,  we  would  talk  on  and  on  of  the 
pleasant  days  we  had  spent  in  our  native  land.  I  don't  know  how  many  hours 
I  have  thus  spent,  bringing  the  glad  light  into  the  eye  of  the  cook  as  I  spoke 
to  him  of  Mrs.  Hayes,  an  estimable  lady,  partially  married,  and  now  living  at 
Fremont,  Ohio. 

I  talked  to  him  of  his  old  home  till  the  tears  would  unbidden  start,  as  he 
rolled  out  the  dough  with  a  common  Budweiser   beer  bottle,  and  shed  the 


148  KEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE, 

scalding  into  the  flour  barrel.  Tears  are  always  unavailing,  but  sometimes  I 
think  they  are  more  so  when  they  are  shed  into  a  barrel  of  flour.  He  was  an 
easy  weeper.  He  would  shed  tears  on  the  slightest  provocation,  or  anything 
else.  Once  I  told  him  something  so  touchful  that  his  eyes  were  blinded  with 
tears  for  the  nonce.  Then  I  took  a  pie,  and  stole  away  so  that  he  could  be 
alone  with  his  sorrow. 

He  used  to  grind  the  coffee  at  2  A.  M.  The  coffee  mill  was  nailed  up 
against  a  partition  on  the  opposite  side  from  my  bed.  That  is  one  reason  I 
did  not  stay  any  longer  at  the  camp.  It  takes  about  an  hour  to  grind  coffee 
enough  for  thirty  men,  and  as  my  ear  was  generally  against  the  pine  boards 
when  the  cook  began,  it  ruffled  my  slumbers  and  made  me  a  morose  man. 

We  had  three  men  at  the  camp  who  snored.  If  they  had  snored  in  my 
own  language  I  could  have  endured  it,  but  it  was  entirely  unintelligible  to  me 
as  it  was.  Still,  it  wasn't  bad  either.  They  snored  on  different  keys,  and 
still  there  was  harmony  in  it — a  kind  of  chime  of  imported  snore  as  it  were. 
I  used  to  lie  and  listen  to  it  for  hours.  Then  the  cook  would  begin  his  coffee 
mill  overture  and  I  would  arise. 

When  I  got  home  I  slept  from  Monday  morning  till  Washington's  Birth- 
day, without  food  or  water. 


(T\y  [eetiire  /Abroad. 

II^^AVING  at  last  yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  Great  Britain,  I  liave  de- 
cided to  make  a  professional  farewell  tour  of  England  with  my  new  and 
thrilling  lecture,  entitled  "Jerked  Across  the  Jordan,  or  the  Sudden 
and  Deserved  Elevation  of  an  American  Citizen," 

I  have,  therefore,  already  written  some  of  the  cablegrams  which  will  be 
sent  to  the  Associated  Press,  in  order  to  open  the  campaign  in  good  shape  in 
America  on  my  return. 

Though  I  have  been  supplicated  for  some  time  by  the  people  of  England 
to  come  over  there  and  thrill  them  with  my  eloquence,  my  thriller  has  been 
out  of  order  lately,  so  that  I  did  not  dare  venture  abroad. 

This  lecture  treats  incidentally  of  the  ease  with  which  an  American  citizen 
may  rise  in  the  Territories,  when  he  has  a  string  tied  around  his  neck,  with  a 
few  personal  friends  at  the  other  end  of  the  string.  It  also  treats  of  the  va- 
rious styles  of  oratory  peculiar  to  America,  with  specimens  of  American  ora- 
tory that  have  been  pressed  and  dried  especially  for  this  lecture.  It  is  a  good 
lecture,  and  the  few  straggling  facts  scattered  along  through  it  don't  interfere 
with  the  lecture  itself  in  any  way. 

I  shall  appear  in  costume  during  the  lecture. 

At  each  lecture  a  different  costume  will  be  worn,  and  the  costume  worn  at 
the  previous  lecture  will  be  promptly  returned  to  the  owner. 

Persons  attending  the  lecture  need  not  be  identified. 

Polite  American  dude  ushers  will  go  through  the  audience  to  keep  the 
flies  away  from  those  who  wish  to  sleep  during  the  lecture. 

Should  the  lecture  be  encored  at  its  close,  it  will  be  repeated  only  once. 
This  encore  business  is  being  overdone  lately,  I  think. 

Following  are  some  of  the  cablegrams  I  have  already  written.  If  any  one 
has  any  suggestions  as  to  change,  or  other  additional  favorable  criticisms,  they 
will  be  gratefully  received ;  but  I  wish  to  reserve  the  right,  however,  to  do  as  I 
please  about  using  them: 

London, , .     — Bill  Nye  opened  his  foreign  lecture  engagement 

here  last  evening  with  a  can-opener.     It  was  found  to  be  in  good  order.     As 

(149) 


150  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

soon  as  tlie  doors  were  opened  there  was  a  mad  rush  for  seats,  during  which 
three  men  were  fatally  injured.  They  insisted  on  remaining  through  the  lec- 
ture, however,  and  adding  to  its  horrors.  Before  8  o'clock  500  people  had 
been  turned  away.  Mr.  Nye  announced  that  he  would  deliver  a  matinee  this 
afternoon,  but  he  has  been  petitioned  by  tradesmen  to  refrain  from  doing  so, 
as  it  will  paralyze  the  business  interests  of  the  city  to  such  a  degree  that  they 
offer  to  "buy  the  house,"  and  allow  the  lecturer  to  cancel  his  engagement. 

London,  ■ ■, .     — The  great  lecturer  and  contortionist.   Bill  Nye, 

last  night  closed  his  six  weeks'  engagement  here  with  his  famous  lecture  on 
"The  Rise  and  Fall  of  the  American  Horse  Thief,"  with  a  grand  benefit  and 
ovation.  The  elite  of  London  was  present,  many  of  whom  have  attended 
every  evening  for  six  weeks  to  hear  this  same  lecture.  Those  who  can  afford 
it  will  follow  the  lecturer  back  to  America,  in  order  to  be  where  they  can  hear 
this  lecture  almost  constantly. 

Mr.  Nye,  at  the  beginning  of  the  season,  offered  a  prize  to  anyone  who 
should  neither  be  absent  nor  tardy  through  the  entire  six  weeks.  After  some  hot 
discussion  last  evening,  the  prize  was  awarded  to  the  janitor  of  the  hall. 

[Associated  Press  Cablegram.] 

London, , .     — Bill  Nye  will  sail  for  America  to-morrow  in  the 

steamship  Senegambia.  On  his  arrival  in  America  he  will  at  once  pay  off  the 
national  debt  and  found  a  large  asylum  for  American  dudes  whose  mothers  are 
too  old  to  take  in  washing  and  support  their  sons  in  affluence.' 


1^ 


Jf^e  fT\\T)er  at  \\of[\e. 

ECEIVING  another  notice  of  assessment  on  my  stock  in  the  Aladdin 
mine  the  other  day,  reminded  me  that  I  was  still  interested  in  a  bottom- 
_^ «..  less  hole  that  was  supposed  at  one  time  to  yield  funds  instead  of  ab- 
^^  sorbing  them.  The  Aladdin  claim  Avas  located  in  the  spring  of  '76  by 
a  syndicate  of  journalists,  none  of  whom  had  ever  been  openly  accused  of 
wealth.     If  we  had  been,  we  could  have  proved  an  alibi. 

We  secured  a  gang  of  miners  to  sink  on  the  discovery,  consisting  of  a 
Chinaman  named  How  Long.  How  Long  spoke  the  Chinese  language  with 
great  fluency.  Being  perfectly  familiar  with  that  language,  and  a  little  musty 
in  the  trans-Missouri  English,  he  would  converse  with  us  in  his  own  language, 
sometimes  by  the  hour,  courteously  overlooking  the  fact  that  we  did  not  reply 
to  him  in  the  same  tongue.  He  would  converse  in  this  way  till  he  ran  down, 
generally,  and  then  he  would  refrain  for  a  while. 

Finally,  How  Long  signified  that  he  would  like  to  draw  his  salary.  Of 
course  he  was  ignorant  of  our  ways,  and  as  innocent  of  any  knowledge  of  the 
intricate  details  peculiar  to  a  mining  syndicate  as  the  child  unborn.  So  he 
had  gone  to  the  president  of  our  syndicate  and  had  been  referred  to  the  super- 
intendent, and  he  had  sent  How  Long  to  the  auditor,  and  the  auditor  had  told 
him  to  go  to  the  gang  boss  and  get  his  time,  and  then  proceed  in  the  proper 
manner,  after  which,  if  his  claim  turned  out  to  be  all  right,  we  would  call  a 
meeting  of  the  syndicate  and  take  early  action  in  relation  to  it.  By  this,  the 
reader  will  readily  see  that,  although  we  were  not  wealthy,  we  knew  how  to 
do  business  just  the  same  as  though  we  had  been  a  wealthy  corporation. 

How  Long  attended  one  of  our  meetings  and  at  the  close  of  the  session  made 
a  few  remarks.  As  near  as  I  am  able  to  recall  his  language,  it  was  very  much 
as  follows: 

"  China  boy  no  sabbe  you  dam  slyndicate.  You  allee  same  foolee  me  too 
muchee.  How  Long  no  chopee  big  hole  in  the  glound  allee  day  for  health. 
You  Melican  boy  Laddee  silver  mine  all  same  funny  business.  Me  no  likee 
slyndicate.  Slyndicate  heap  gone  all  same  woodbine.  You  sabbe  me?  How 
Long  make  em  slyndicate  pay  tention.     You  April  foolee  me.     You  makee  me 

(151) 


152 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


tlired.  Ton  putee  me  too  much  on  em  slate.  Slyndicate  no  good.  Allee  time 
stanemoff  China  boy.  You  allee  time  chin  chin.  Dlividend  allee  time  heap 
gone." 

Owing  to  a  strike  which  then  took  place  in  our  mine,  we  found  that,  in  order 
to  complete  our  assessment  work,  we  must  get  in  another  crew  or  do  the  job 
ourselves.     Owing  to  scarcity  of  help  and  a  feeling  of  antagonism  on  the  part 

of  the  laboring  classes  toward  our 
giant  enterprise,  a  feeling  of  hos- 
tility which  naturally  exists  be- 
tween labor  and  capital,  we  had  to 
go  out  to  the  mine  ourselves.  We 
had  heard  of  other  men  who  had 
shoveled  in  their  own  mines  and 
w^ere  afterward  worth  millions  of 
dollars,  so  we  took  some  bacon  and 
other  delicacies  and  hied  us  to  the 
Aladdin. 

Buck,  our  mining  expert,  went 
down  first.  Then  he  requested  us 
to  hoist  him  out  again.  We  did 
so.  I  have  forgotten  what  his 
first  remark  was  when  he  got  out 
of  the  bucket,  but  that  don't  make 
any  difference,  for  I  Avouldn't  care 
to  use  it  here  anyway. 

It  seems  that  How  Long,  owing 
to  his  heathenish  ignorance  of  our 
customs  and  the  unavoidable  delay 
in  adjusting  his  claim  for  work,  labor  and  sei*vices,  had  allowed  his  temper  to 
get  the  better  of  him,  and  he  had  planted  a  colony  of  American  skunks  in  the 
shaft  of  the  Aladdin. 

That  is  the  reason  we  left  the  Aladdin  mine  and  no  one  jumped  it.  We 
had  not  done  the  necessary  work  in  order  to  hold  it,  but  when  we  went  out 
there  the  following  spring  we  found  that  no  one  had  jumped  it. 

Even  the  rough,  coarse  miner,  far  from  civilizing  influences  and  beyond 
the  reach  of  social  advantages,  recognizes  the  fact  that  this  little,  unostenta- 


I  HAVE  FORGOTTEN  HIS  FIRST  REMARK. 


THE    MINER    AT    HOME.  153 

tious  animal  plodding  along  through  life  in  its  own  modest  way,  yet  wields  a 
wonderful  influence  over  the  destinies  of  num.  So  the  Aladdin  mine  Avas 
not  disturbed  that  summer. 

We  paid  How  Long,  and  in  the  following  spring  had  a  flattering  offer  for 
the  claim  if  it  assayed  as  well  as  we  said  it  would,  so  Buck,  our  expert,  went 
out  to  the  Aladdin  with  an  assayer  and  the  purchaser.  The  assay  of  the 
Aladdin  showed  up  very  rich  indeed,  far  above  anything  that  I  had  ever  hoped 
for,  and  so  we  made  a  sale.  But  we  never  got  the  money,  for  when  the  assayer 
got  home  he  casually  assayed  his  apparatus  and  found  that  his  whole  outfit 
had  been  salted  prior  to  the  Aladdin  assay, 

I  do  not  think  our  expert.  Buck,  would  salt  an  assayer' s  kit,  but  he  -was 
charged  with  it  at  this  time,  and  he  said  he  would  rather  lose  his  trade  than 
have  trouble  over  it.  He  would  rather  suffer  wrong  than  to  do  wrong,  he  said, 
and  so  the  Aladdin  came  back  on  our  hands. 

It  is  not  a  very  good  mine  if  a  man  wants  it  as  a  source  of  revenue,  but  it 
makes  a  mighty  good  well.  The  water  is  cold  and  clear  as  crystal.  If  it  stood 
in  Boston,  instead  of  out  there  in  northern  Colorado,  where  you  can't  get  at 
it  more  than  three  months  in  the  year,  it  would  be  worth  $150.  The  great 
fault  of  the  Aladdin  mine  is  its  poverty  as  a  mine,  and  its  isolation  as  a  well. 


f\T)  Operatic  E^tertair^mer^t. 

AST  week  we  went  up  to  the  Coliseum,  at  Minneapolis,  to  hear  Theodore 
Thomas'  orchestra,  the  Wagner  trio  and  Christine  Nilsson.  •  The  Coliseum 
is  a  large  rink  just  out  of  Minneapolis,  on  the  road  between  that  city 
-^^  and  St.  Paul,  It  can  seat  4,000  people  comfortably,  but  the  management 
like  to  wedge  4,500  people  in  there  on  a  warm  day,  and  then  watch  the  per- 
spiration trickle  out  through  the  clapboards  on  the  outside.  On  the  closing 
afternoon,  during  the  matinee'  performance,  the  building  was  struck  by  light- 
ning and  a  hole  knocked  out  of  the  Corinthian  duplex  that  surmounts  the 
oblique  portcullis  on  the  off  side.  The  reader  will  see  at  once  the  location  of 
the  bolt. 

The  lightning  struck  the  flag-stafP,  ran  down  the  leg  of  a  man  who  was 
repairing  the  electric  light,  took  a  chew  of  his  tobacco,  turned  his  boot 
'Wrong  side  out  and  induced  him  to  change  his  sock,  toyed  with  a  chilblain, 
wrenched  out  a  soft  corn  and  roguishly  put  it  in  his  ear,  then  ran  down  the 
electric  light  wire,  a  part  of  it  filling  an  engagement  in  the  Coliseum  and  the 
balance  following  the  wire  to  the  depot,  where  it  made  double-pointed  tooth- 
picks of  a  pole  fifty  feet  high.  All  this  was  done  very  briefly.  Those  who 
have  seen  lightning  toy  with  a  cotton  wood  tree,  know  that  this  fluid  makes  a 
specialty  of  it  at  once  and  in  a  brief  manner.  The  lightning  in  this  case,  broke 
the  glass  in  the  skylight  and  deposited  the  broken  fragments  on  a  half  dozen 
parquette  chairs,  that  were  empty  because  the  speculators  who  owned  them 
couldn't  get  but  $50  apiece,  and  were  waiting  for  a  man  to  mortgage  his  resi- 
dence and  sell  a  team.  He  couldn't  make  the  transfer  in  time  for  the  matinee, 
so  the  seats  were  vacant  when  the  lightning  struck.  The  immediate  and  previ- 
ous fluid  then  shot  athwart  the  auditorium  in  the  direction  of  the  platform, 
where  it  nearly  frightened  to  death  a  large  chorus  of  children.  Women  fainted, 
ticket  speculators  fell  $2  on  desirable  seats,  and  strong  men  coughed  up  a 
clove.  The  scene  beggared  description.  I  intended  to  have  said  that  before, 
but  forgot  it.  Theodore  Thomas  drew  in  a  full  breath,  and  Christine  Nilsson 
drew  her  salary.     Two  thousand  strong  men  thought  of  their  wasted  lives,  and 

(154) 


AN   OPERATIC   ENTERTAINMENT. 


155 


two  thousand  women  felt  for  their  back  hair  to  see  if  it  was  still  there.  I  say, 
therefore,  without  successful  contradiction,  that  the  scene  beggared  description. 
Chestnuts ! 

In  the  evening  several  people  sang,  "The  Creation."  Nilsson  was  Gabriel. 
Gabriel  has  a  beautiful  voice  cut  low  in  the  neck,  and  sings  like  a  joyous  bobo- 
link in  the  dew-saturated  mead.  How's  that?  Nilsson  is  proud  and  haughty 
in  her  demeanor,  and  I  had  a  good  notion  to  send  a  note  up  to  her,  stating  that 
she  needn't  feel  so  lofty,  and  if  she  could  sit  up  in  the  peanut  gallery  where  I 
Avas  and  look  at  herself,  with  her 
di'Bss  kind  of  sawed  off  at  the 
top,  she  would  not  be  so  vain. 
She  wore  a  diamond  necklace 
and  silk  skirt.  The  skirt  was 
cut  princesse,  I  think,  to  har- 
monize with  her  salary.  As  an 
old  neighbor  of  mine  said  when 
he  painted  the  top  board  of  his 
fence  green,  he  wanted  it  "to 
kind  of  corroborate  with  his 
blinds."  He's  the  same  man  who 
went  to  AVashington  about  the 
time  of  the  Guiteau  trial,  and 
said  he  was  present  at  the  "post 
mortise"  examination.  But  the 
funniest  thing  of  all,  he  said, 
was  to  see  Dr.  Mary  AValker 
riding  one  of  these  "philoso- 
phers" around  on  the  streets. 

But  I  am  wandering.  We 
were  speaking  of  the  Festival, 
Theodore  Thomas  is  certainly  a  great  leader.  What  a  pity  he  is  out  of  politics. 
He  pounded  the  air  all  up  fine  there,  Thursday.  I  think  he  has  25  small-size 
fiddles,  10  medium-size,  and  5  of  those  big,  fat  owes  that  a  bald-headed  man 
generally  annoys.  Then  there  were  a  lot  of  wind  instruments,  drums,  et  cetera. 
There  were  600  performers  on  the  stage,  counting  the  chorus,  with  4,500  peo- 
ple in  the  house  and  3,000  outside  yelling  at  the  ticket  ofiice — also  at  the  top 


MAKING  HIMSELF  USEFUL. 


156  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

of  their  voices — and  swearing  because  they  couldn't  mortgage  their  immortal 
souls  and  hear  Nilsson's  coin  silver  notes.  It  was  frightful.  The  building 
settled  twelve  inches  in  those  two  hours  and  a  half,  the  electric  lights  went  out 
nine  times  for  refi*eshments,  and,  on  the  whole,  the  entertainment  was  a  grand 
success.  The  first  time  the  lights  adjourned,  an  usher  came  in  on  the  stage 
through  a  side  entrance  with  a  kerosene  lamp,  I  guess  he  would  have  stood 
there  and  held  it  for  Nilsson  to  sing  by,  if  4,500  people  hadn't  with  one  voice 
laughed  him  out  into  the  starless  night.  You  might  as  well  have  tried  to 
light  benighted  Africa  with  a  white  bean.  I  shall  never  forget  how  proud  and 
buoyant  he  looked  as  he  sailed  in  with  that  kerosene  lamp  with  a  soiled  chim- 
ney on  it,  and  how  hurt  and  grieved  he  seemed  when  he  took  it  and  groped  his 
way  out,  while  the  Coliseum  trembled  with  ill-concealed  merriment.  I  use 
the  term  "ill-concealed  merriment"  with  permission  of  the  proprietors,  for 
this  season  only. 


Do(^s  aT)d  Do^  Day5. 

y  TAKE  occasion  at  this  time  to  ask  the  American  people  as  one  man,  what 
are  we  to  do  to  prevent  the  spread  of  the  most  insidious  and  disagreeable 
disease  knoAvn  as  hydrophobia?  When  a  fellow-being  has  to  be  smoth- 
^  ered,  as  was  the  case  the  other  day  right  here  in  our  fair  land,  a  land 
where  tyrant  foot  hath  never  trod  nor  bigot  forged  a  chain,  we  look  anxiously 
into  each  other's  faces  and  inquire,  what  shall  we  do? 

Shall  we  go  to  France  at  a  great  expense  and  fill  our  systems  full  of  dog 
virus  and  then  return  to  our  glorious  land,  where  we  may  fork  over  that  virus 
to  posterity  and  thus  mix  up  French  hydrophobia  with  the  navy-blue  blood  of 
free-born  American  citizens? 

I  wot  not. 

If  I  knew  that  would  be  my  last  wot  I  would  not  change  it.  That  is  just 
wot  it  would  be. 

But  again. 

What  shall  we  do  to  avoid  getting  impregnated  with  the  American  dog  and 
then  saturating  our  systems  with  the  alien  dog  of  Paris  ? 

It  is  a  serious  matter,  and  if  we  do  not  want  to  play  the  Desdemona  act  we 
must  take  some  timely  precautions.     What  must  those  precautions  be  ? 

Did  it  ever  occur  to  the  average  thinking  mind  that  we  might  squeeze  along 
for  weeks  without  a  dog  ?  Whole  families  have  existed  for  years  after  being 
deprived  of  dogs.  Look  at  the  wealthy  of  our  land.  They  go  on  comfortably 
through  life  and  die  at  last  with  the  unanimous  consent  of  their  heirs  dogless. 

Then  why  cannot  the  poor  gradually  taper  off  on  dogs  ?  They  ought  not 
to  stop  all  of  a  sudden,  but  they  could  leave  off  a  dog  at  a  time  until  at  last 
they  overcame  the  pernicious  habit. 

I  saw  a  man  in  St.  Paul  last  week  who  was  once  poor,  and  so  owned  seven 
variegated  dogs.  He  was  confirmed  in  that  habit.  But  he  summoned  all  his 
will-power  at  last  and  said  he  would  shake  off  these  dogs  and  become  a  man. 
He  did  so,  and  to-day  he  owns  a  city  lot  in  St.  Paul,  and  seems  to  be  the  pic- 
ture of  health. 

(157) 


158  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

The  trouble  about  maintaining  a  dog  is  that  he  may  go  on  for  years  in  a 
quiet,  gentlemanly  way,  winning  the  regard  of  all  who  know  him,  and  then  all 
of  a  sudden  he  may  hydrophobe  in  the  most  violent  manner.  Not  only  that, 
but  he  may  do  so  while  we  have  company.  He  may  also  bite  our  twins  or  the 
twins  of  our  warmest  friends.  He  may  bite  us  now  and  we  may  laugh  at  it, 
but  in  five  years  from  now,  while  we  are  delivering  a  humorous  lecture,  we 
may  burst  forth  into  the  audience  and  bite  a  beautiful  young  lady  in  the  par- 
quet or  on  the  ear. 

It  is  a  solemn  thing  to  think  of,  fellow-citizens,  and  I  appeal  to  those  who 
may  read  this,  as  a  man  who  may  not  live  to  see  a  satisfactory  political  re- 
form— I  appeal  to  you  to  refrain  from  the  dog.  He  is  purely  ornamental. 
We  may  love  a  good  dog,  but  we  ought  to  love  our  children  more.  It  would 
be  a  very,  very  noble  and  expensive  dog  that  I  would  agree  to  feed  with  my 
only  son. 

I  know  that  we  gradually  become  attached  to  a  good  dog,  but  some  day  he 
may  become  attached  to  us,  and  what  can  be  sadder  than  the  sight  of  a  leading 
citizen  drawing  a  reluctant  mad  dog  down  the  street  by  main  strength  and  the 
seat  of  his  pantaloons?  (I  mean  his  own,  not  the  dog's  pants.  f^^This  joke 
will  appear  in  book  form  in  April.  The  book  will  be  very  readable,  and  there 
will  be  another  joke  in  it  also,  eod  tf. ) 

I  have  said  a  good  deal  about  the  dog,  pro  and  con,  and  I  am  not  a  rabid 
dog  abolitionist,  for  no  one  loves  to  have  his  clear-cut  features  licked  by  the 
warm,  wet  tongue  of  a  noble  dog  any  more  than  I  do,  but  rather  than  see  hy- 
drophobia become  a  national  characteristic  or  a  leading  industry  here,  I  would 
forego  the  dog. 

Perhaps  all  men  are  that  way,  however.  When  they  get  a  little  forehanded 
they  forget  that  they  were  once  poor,  and  owned  dogs.  If  so,  I  do  not  wish  to 
be  unfair.  I  want  to  be  just,  and  I  believe  I  am.  Let  us  yield  up  our  dogs 
and  take  the  affection  that  we  would  otherwise  bestow  on  them  on  some  human 
being.  I  have  tried  it  and  it  works  well.  There  are  thousands  of  people  in 
the  world,  of  both  sexes,  who  are  pining  and  starving  for  the  love  and  money 
that  we  daily  shower  on  the  dog. 

If  the  dog  would  be  kind  enough  to  refrain  from  introducing  his  justly  cele- 
brated virus  into  the  person  of  those  only  who  kiss  him  on  the  cold,  moist  nose, 
it  would  be  all  right ;  but  when  a  dog  goes  mad  he  is  very  impulsive,  and  he 
may  bestow  himself  on  an  obscure  man.     So  I  feel  a  little  nervous  myself. 


Q^ristopf^er  Qplumbu5. 

^jROBABLY  few  people  have  been  more  successful  in  the  discovering  line 
jr-o  than  Christopher  Columbus.  Living  as  he  did  in  a  day  when  a  great 
J  Iflj     many  things  were  still  in  an  undiscovered  state,  the  horizon  was  filled 

C  with  golden  opportunities  for  a  man  possessed  of  Mr.  C.'s  pluck  and  am- 
bition. His  life  at  first  was  filled  with  rebuffs  and  disapj^ointments,  but  at  last  he 
grew  to  be  a  man  of  importance  in  his  own  profession,  and  the  j)eople  who  wanted 
anything  discovered  would  always  bring  it  to  him  rather  than  take  it  elsewhere. 

And  yet  the  life  of  Columbus  was  a  stormy  one.  Though  he  discovered  a 
continent  wherein  a  millionaire  attracts  no  attention,  he  himself  was  very  poor. 

Though  he  rescued  from  barbarism  a  broad  and  beautiful  land  in  whose 
metropolis  the  theft  of  less  than  half  a  million  of  dollars  is  regarded  as  petty 
larceny,  Chris  himself  often  went  to  bed  hungry.  Is  it  not  singular  that  the 
gray-eyed  and  gentle  Columbus  should  have  added  a  hemisphere  to  the  history 
of  our  globe,  a  hemisphere,  too,  where  pie  is  a  common  thing,  not  only  on  Sun- 
day, but  throughout  the  week,  and  yet  that  he  should  have  gone  down  to  his 
grave  pieless! 

Such  is  the  history  of  progress  in  all  ages  and  in  all  lines  of  thought  and 
investigation.     Such  is  the  meagre  reward  of  the  pioneer  in  new  fields  of  action. 

I  presume  that  America  to-day  has  a  larger  pie  area  than  any  other  land  in 
which  the  Cockney  English  language  is  spoken.  Right  here  where  millions  of 
native  born  Americans  dwell,  many  of  whom  are  ashamed  of  the  fact  that  they 
were  born  here  and  which  shame  is  entirely  mutual  between  the  Goddess  of 
Liberty  and  themselves,  we  have  a  style  of  pie  that  no  other  land  can  boast  of. 

From  the  bleak  and  acid  dried  apple  pie  of  Maine  to  the  irrigated  mince 
pie  of  the  blue  Pacific,  all  along  down  the  long  line  of  igneous,  volcanic  and  strat- 
ified pie,  America,  the  land  of  the  freedom  bird  with  the  high  instep  to  his 
nose,  leads  the  world. 

Other  lands  may  point  with  undissembled  pride  to  their  polygamy  and  their 
cholera,  but  we  reck  not.  Our  polygamy  here  is  still  in  its  infancy  and  our 
leprosy  has  had  the  disadvantage  of  a  cold,  backward  spring,  but  look  at  our  pie. 

Throughout  a  long  and  disastrous  war,  sometimes  referred  to  as  a  fratricidal 
war,  during  which  this  fair  land  was  drenched  in  blood,  and  also  during  which 

(159) 


IGO  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

aforesaid  war  numerous  frightful  blunders  were  made  which  are  fast  coming 
to  the  surface — through  the  courtesy  of  participants  in  said  war  who  have 
patiently  waited  for  those  who  blundered  to  die  ofp,  and  now  admit  that  said 
particij^ants  who  are  dead  did  blunder  exceedingly  throughout  all  this  long  and 
deadly  struggle  for  the  supremacy  of  liberty  and  right — -as  I  was  about  to  say 
when  my  mind  began  to  wobble,  the  American  pie  has  shown  forth  resplendent 
in  the  full  glare  of  a  noonday  sun  or  beneath  the  pale-green  of  the  electric 
light,  and  she  stands  forth  proudly  to-day  with  her  undying  loyalty  to  dyspep- 
sia untrammeled  and  her  deep  and  deadly  gastric  antipathy  still  fiercely  burn- 
ing in  her  breast. 

That  is  the  J)roud  history  of  American  pie.  Powers,  principalities,  kingdoms 
and  hand-made  dynasties  may  crumble,  but  the  republican  form  of  pie  does  not 
crumble.  Tyranny  may  totter  on  its  throne,  but  the  American  pie  does  not  tot- 
ter. Not  a  tot.  No  foreign  threat  has  ever  been  able  to  make  our  common  chick- 
en pie  quail.     I  do  not  say  this  because  it  is  smart;  I  simply  say  it  to  fill  up. 

But  would  it  not  do  Columbus  good  to  come  among  us  to-day  and  look  over 
our  fi*ee  institutions?  Would  it  not  please  him  to  ride  over  this  continent 
which  has  been  rescued  by  his  presence  of  mind  from  the  thraldom  of  barbarism 
and  forked  over  to  the  genial  and  refining  influences  of  prohibition  and  pie? 

America  fills  no  mean  niche  in  the  great  history  of  nations,  and  if  you  lis- 
ten carefully  for  a  few  moments  you  will  hear  some  American,  with  his  mouth 
full  of  pie,  make  that  remark.  The  American  is  always  frank  and  perfectly 
free  to  state  that  no  other  country  can  approach  this  one.  We  allow  no  little 
two-for-a-quarter  monarchy  to  excel  us  in  the  size  of  our  failures  or  in  the 
calm  and  self -poised  deliberation  with  which  we  erect  a  monument  to  the  glory 
of  a  worthy  citizen  who  is  dead,  and  therefore  politically  useless. 

The  careless  student  of  the  career  of  Columbus  will  find  much  in  these 
lines  that  he  has  not  yet  seen.  He  will  realize  when  he  comes  to  read  this 
little  sketch  the  pains  and  the  trouble  and  the  research  necessary  before  such 
an  article  on  the  life  and  work  of  Columbus  could  be  written,  and  he  will  thank 
me  for  it ;  but  it  is  not  for  that  that  I  have  done  it.  It  is  a  pleasure  for  me  to 
hunt  up  and  arrange  historical  and  biographical  data  in  a  pleasing  form  for 
the  student  and  savant.  I  am  only  too  glad  to  jolease  and  gratify  the  student  and 
the  savant.     I  was  that  way  myself  once  and  I  know  how  to  sympathize  with  them. 

P.  S.— I  neglected  to  state  that  Columbus  was  a  married  man.  Still,  he 
did  not  murmur  or  repine. 


Office  of-  Daily  Boomerang,  Laeamie  City,  Wy.,  Aug.  9,  1882. 
HY  DEAR  GENERAL. — I  have  received  by  telegraph  the  news  of 
^  (C    my  nomination  by  the  President  and  my  confirmation  by  the  8en- 
W  \    ate,  as  postmaster  at  Laramie,  and  wish  to  extend  my  thanks  for  the 
same. 

I  have  ordered  an  entirely  new  set  of  boxes  and  postoffice  outfit,  including 
new  corrugated  cuspidors  for  the  lady  clerks. 

I  look  upon  the  appointment,  myself,  as  a  great  triumph  of  eternal  truth 
over  error  and  wrong.     It  is  one  of  the  epochs,  I  may  say,  in  the  Nation's 

onward  march  toward  political  purity  and 
perfection.  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  no- 
ticed any  stride  in  the  affairs  of  state,  which 
so  thoroughly  impressed  me  with  its  wisdom. 
Now  that  we  are  co-workers  in  the  same 
department,  I  trust  that  you  will  not  feel  shy 
or  backward  in  consulting  me  at  any  time 
relative  to  matters  concerning  postoffice  af- 
fairs. Be  perfectly  frank  wdth  me,  and  feel 
perfectly  free  to  just  bring  anything  of  that 
kind  right  to  me.  Do  not  feel  reluctant  be- 
cause I  may  at  times  appear  haughty  and 
indifferent,  cold  or  reserved.  Perhaps  you 
do  not  think  I  know  the  difPerence  between 
a  general  delivery  windoAv  and  a  three-m 
quad,  but  that  is  a  mistake. 
My  general  information  is  far  beyond  my  years. 

With  profoundest  regard,  and  a  hearty  endorsement  of  the  policy  of  the 
President  and  the  Senate,  whatever  it  may  be, 

I  remain,  sincerely  yours. 


a  new  office  outfit. 


Bill  Nye,  P.  M. 


Gen.  Feank  Hatton,  Washington,  D.  C. 

(161) 


f\  Jour^alistie  Je^derfoot. 

^S^^nIPP^OST  everyone  who  lias  tried  the  publication  of  a  newspaper  will  call 
mfWnw  *°  mind  as  he  reads  this  item,  a  similar  experience,  though,  perhaps, 
^'ii.    v.    not  so  pronounced  and  protuberant. 

'-''^ -i.-  -"-  "  Early  one  summer  morning  a  gawky  young  tenderfoot,  both  as  to 
the  West  and  the  details  of  journalism,  came  into  the  office  and  asked  me  for  a 
job  as  correspondent  to  write  up  the  mines  in  North  Park.  He  wore  his  hair 
longish  and  tried  to  make  it  curl.  The  result  was  a  greasy  coat  collar  and  the 
general  tout  ensemble  of  the  genus  "smart  Aleck."  He  had  also  clothed  him- 
self in  the  extravagant  clothes  of  the  dime  novel  scout  and  beautiful  girl- 
rescuer  of  the  Indian  country.  He  had  been  driven  west  by  a  wild  desire  to 
hunt  the  flagrant  Sioux  warrior,  and  do  a  general  Wild  Bill  business ;  hoping, 
no  doubt,  before  the  season  closed,  to  rescue  enough  beautiful  captive  maidens 
to  get  up  a  young  Yassar  College  in  Wyoming  or  Montana. 

I  told  him  that  we  did  not  care  for  a  mining  correspondent  who  did  not 
know  a  piece  of  blossom  rock  from  a  geranium.  I  knew  it  took  a  man  a 
good  many  years  to  gain  knowledge  enough  to  know  where  to  sink  a  prospect 
shaft  even,  and  as  to  passing  opinions  on  a  vein,  it  would  seem  almost  wicked 
and  sacriligious  to  send  a  man  out  there  among  those  old  grizzly  miners  who 
had  spent  their  lives  in  bitter  experience,  unless  the  young  man  could  readily 
distinguish  the  points  of  difference  between  a  chunk  of  free  milling  quartz  and 
a  fragment  of  bologna  sausage. 

He  still  thought  he  could  write  us  letters  that  would  do  the  j^aper  some 
eternal  good,  and  though  I  told  him,  as  he  wrung  my  hand  and  left,  to  refrain 
from  writing  or  doing  any  work  for  us,  he  wrote  a  letter  before  he  had  reached 
the  home  station  on  the  stage  road,  or  at  least  sent  us  a  long  letter  from 
there.     It  might  have  been  written  before  he  started,  however. 

The  letter  was  of  the  "we-have-went"  and  "I-have-never-saw"  variety, 
and  he  spelt  curiosity  "qrossity."  He  worked  hard  to  get  the  word  into  his 
alleged  letter,  and  then  assassinated  it. 

(162) 


A   JOURNALISTIC   TENDERFOOT. 


163 


Well,  we  paid  no  attention  whatever  to  the  letter,  but  meantime  he  got  into 
the  mines,  and  the  way  he  dead-headed  feed  and  sour  mash,  on  the  strength  of 
his  relations  with  the  press,  made  the  older  miners  weep. 

Buck  Bramel  got  a  little  worried  and  wrote  to  me  about  it.  He  said  that 
our  soft-eyed  mining  savant  was  getting  us  a  good  many  subscribers,  and  writ- 
ing up  every  little  gopher  hole  in  North  Park,  and  living  on  Cincinnati  quail, 
as  we  miners  call  bacon ;  but  he  said  that  none  of  these  fine,  blooming  letters, 
regarding  the  assays  on  "The  Weasel  Asleep,"  ''The  Pauper's  Dream,"  "The 
Mary  Ellen"  and  "The  Over  Draft,"  ever  seemed  to  crop  out  in  the  paper. 

Why  was  it? 

I  wrote  back  that  the  white-eyed  pelican  from  the  buckwheat-enamelled 
plains  of  Arkansas  had  not  remitted,  was  not  employed  by  us,  and  that  I  would 
write  and  publish  a  little  card  of  introduction  for  the  bilious  litterateur  that 
would  make  people  take  in 
their  domestic  animals,  and 
lock  up  their  front  fences  and 
garden  fountains. 

In  the  meantime  they  sent 
him  up  the  gulch  to  find  some 
"float."  He  had  wandered 
away  from  camp  thirty  miles 
before  he  remembered  that 
he  didn't  know  what  float 
looked  like.  Then  he  thougflit 
he  would  go  back  and  in- 
quire. He  got  lost  while  in  a 
dark  brown  study  and  drifted 
into  the  bosom  of  the  unknow- 
able. He  didn't  miss  the  trail 
until  a  perpendicular  wall  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  about 
900  feet  high,  rose  up  and 
hit  him  athwart  the  nose. 

He  communed  with  nature  and  the  coyotes  one  night  and  had  a  pretty  tough 
time  of  it.  He  froze  his  nose  partially  off,  and  the  coyotes  came  and  gnawed 
his  little  dimpled  toes.     He  passed  a  wretched  night,  and  was  greatly  annoyed 


COMMUNING    WITH    NATURE. 


1G4  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

by  the  cold,  which  at  that  elevation  sends  the  mercury  tcAvard  zero  all  through 
the  summer  nights. 

Of  course  he  pulled  the  zodiac  partially  over  him,  and  tried  to  button  his 
alapaca  duster  a  little  closer,  but  his  sleep  was  troubled  by  the  sociability  of 
the  coyotes  and  the  midnight  twitter  of  the  mountain  lion.  He  ate  moss  agates 
rare  and  spruce  gum  for  breakfast.  When  he  got  to  the  camp  he  looked  like  a 
forty-day  starvationist  hunting  for  a  job. 

They  asked  him  if  he  found  any  float,  and  he  said  he  didn't  find  a  blamed 
drop  of  water,  say  nothing  about  float,  and  then  they  all  laughed  a  merry 
laugh,  and  said  that  if  he  showed  up  at  daylight  the  next  morning  within  the 
limits  of  the  park,  the  orders  were  to  burn  him  at  the  stake. 

The  next  morning  neither  he  nor  the  best  bay  mule  on  the  Troublesome 
was  to  be  seen  with  naked  eye.  After  that  we  heard  of  him  in  the  San  Juan 
country. 

He  had  lacerated  the  finer  feelings  of  the  miners  down  there,  and  had  vio- 
lated the  etiquette  of  San  Juan,  so  they  kicked  a  flour  barrel  out  from  under 
him  one  day  when  he  was  looking  the  other  way,  and  being  a  poor  tight-rope 
performer,  he  got  tangled  up  with  a  piece  of  inch  rope  in  such  a  way  that  he 
died  of  his  injuries. 


Jbe  /\/T\ateijr  (^arpepter. 

N  my  opinion  every  professional  man  should  keep  a  chest  of  carpenters' 
tools  in  his  barn  or  shop,  and  busy  himself  at  odd  hours  with  them  in 
constructing  the  varied  articles  that  are  always  needed  about  the  house. 
■^^  There  is  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  feeling  your  own  independence  of 
other  trades,  and  more  especially  of  the  carpenter.  Every  now  and  then  your 
wife  will  want  a  bracket  put  up  in  some  corner  or  other,  and  with  your  new, 
bright  saw  and  glittering  hammer  you  can  put  up  one  upon  which  she  can 
hang  a  cast-iron  horse-blanket  lambrequin,  with  inflexible  water  lilies  sewed 
in  it. 

A  man  will,  if  he  tries,  readily  learn  to  do  a  great  many  such  little  things 
and  his  wife  will  brag  on  him  to  other  ladies,  and  they  will  make  invidious 
comparisons  between  their  husbands  who  can't  do  anything  of  that  kind  what- 
ever, and  you  who  are  "so  handy." 

Firstly,  you  buy  a  set  of  amateur  carpenter  tools.  You  do  not  need  to  say 
that  you  are  an  amateur.  The  dealer  will  find  that  out  when  you  ask  him  for 
an  easy -running  broad-ax  or  a  green-gage  plumb  line.  He  will  sell  you  a  set 
of  amateur's  tools  that  will  be  made  of  old  sheet-iron  with  basswood  handles, 
and  the  saws  will  double  up  like  a  piece  of  stovepipe. 

After  you  have  nailed  a  board  on  the  fence  successfully,  you  will  very 
naturally  desire  to  do  something  much  better,  more  difficult.  You  will  prob- 
able try  to  erect  a  parlor  table  or  rustic  settee. 

I  made  a  very  handsome  bracket  last  week,  and  I  was  naturally  proud  of 
it.  In  fastening  it  together,  if  I  hadn't  inadvertently  nailed  it  to  the  barn 
floor,  I  guess  I  could  have  used  it  very  well,  but  in  tearing  it  loose  from  the 
barn,  so  that  the  two  could  be  used  separately,  I  ruined  a  bracket  that  was  in- 
tended to  serve  as  the  base,  as  it  were,  of  a  lambrequin  which  cost  nine  dol- 
lars, aside  from  the  time  expended  on  it. 

During  the  month  of  March  I  built  an  ice-chest  for  this  summer.  It  was 
not  handsome,  but  it  was  roomy,  and  would  be  very  nice  for  the  season  of  1886, 
I  thought.  It  worked  pretty  well  through  March  and  April,  but  as  the  weather 
begins  to   warm  up   that  ice-chest  is    about  the    warmest  place  around  the 

(165) 


1G6  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

house.  There  is  actually  a  glow  of  heat  around  that  ice-chest  that  I  don't 
notice  elsewhere.  I've  shown  it  to  several  personal  friends.  They  seem  to 
think  it  is  not  built  tightly  enough  for  an  ice-chest.  My  brother  looked  at  it 
yesterday,  and  said  that  his  idea  of  an  ice-chest  was  that  it  ought  to  be  tight 
enough  at  least  to  hold  the  larger  chunks  of  ice  so  that  they  would  not  escape 
through  the  pores  of  the  ice-box.  He  says  he  never  built  one,  but  that  it 
stood  to  reason  that  a  refrigerator  like  that  ought  to  be  constructed  so  that  it 
Avould  keep  the  cows  out  of  it.  You  don't  want  to  have  a  refrigerator  that  the 
cattle  can  get  through  the  cracks  of  and  eat  up  your  strawberries  on  ice, 
he  says. 

A  neighbor  of  mine  who  once  built  a  hen  resort  of  laths,  and  now  wears  a 
thick  thumb-nail  that  looks  like  a  Brazil  nut  as  a  memento  of  that  pullet  cor- 
ral, says  my  ice-chest  is  all  right  enough,  only  that  it  is  not  suited  to  this  cli- 
mate. He  thinks  that  along  Behring's  Strait,  during  the  holidays,  my  ice- 
chest  would  work  like  a  charm.  And  even  here,  he  thought,  if  I  could  keep 
the  fever  out  of  my  chest  there  would  be  less  pain. 

I  have  made  several  other  little  articles  of  vcrtu  this  spring,  to  the  con- 
struction of  which  I  have  contributed  a  good  deal  of  time  and  two  finger  nails. 
I  have  also  sawed  into  my  leg  two  or  three  times.  The  leg,  of  course,  will  get 
well,  but  the  pantaloons  wdll  not.  Parties  wishing  to  meet  me  in  my  studio 
during  the  morning  hour  will  turn  into  the  alley  between  Eighth  and  Ninth 
streets,  enter  the  third  stable  door  on  the  left,  pass  around  behind  my  Gothic 
horse,  and  give  the  countersign  and  three  kicks  on  the  door  in  an  ordinary 
tone  of  voice. 


5l?e  f\\jerz(^e  \\er). 


AM  convinced  that  there  is  great  economy  in  keeping  hens  if  we  have' 
sufficient  room  for  them  and  a  thorough  knowledge  of  how  to  manage  the 
fowl  property.  But  to  the  professional  man,  who  is  not  familiar  Avith  the 
"^  habits  of  the  hen,  and  whose  mind  does  not  naturally  and  instinctively 
turn  henward,  I  would  say:  Shun  her  as  you  would  the  deadly  upas  tree  of 
Piscataquis  county,  Me. 

Nature  has  endowed  the  hen  with  but  a  limited  amount  of  brain-force. 
Any  one  will  notice  that  if  he  will  compare  the  skull  of  the  average  self-made 
hen  with  that  of  Daniel  Webster,  taking  careful  measurements  directly  over 
the  top  from  one  ear  to  the  other,  the  well-informed  brain  student  will  at  once 
notice  a  great  falling-off  in  the  region  of  reverence  and  an  abnormal  bulging 
out  in  the  location  of  alimentiveness. 

Now  take  your  tape-measure  and,  beginning  at  memory,  pass  carefully  over 
the  occiputal  bone  to  the  base  of  the  brain  in  the  region  of  love  of  home  and 
offspring  and  you  will  see  that,  while  the  hen  suffers  much  in  comparison  with 
the  statement  in  the  relative  size  of  sublimity,  reflection,  spirituality,  time, 
tune,  etc.,  when  it  comes  to  love  of  home  and  offspring  she  shines  forth  with 
great  splendor. 

The  hen  does  not  care  for  the  sublime  in  nature.  Neither  does  she  care 
for  music.  Music  hath  no  charms  to  soften  her  tough  old  breast.  But  she 
loves  her  home  and  her  country.  I  have  sought  to  promote  the  interests  of 
the  hen  to  some  extent,  but  I  have  not  been  a  marked  success  in  that  line. 

I  can  write  a  poem  in  fifteen  minutes.  I  always  could  dash  off  a  poem 
whenever  I  wanted  to,  and  a  very  good  poem,  too,  for  a  dashed  poem.  I  could 
write  a  speech  for  a  friend  in  congress — a  speech  that  would  be  printed  in  the 
Congressional  Record  and  go  all  over  the  United  States  and  be  read  by  no  one. 
I  could  enter  the  field  of  letters  anywhere  and  attract  attention,  but  when  it 
comes  to  setting  a  hen  I  feel  that  I  am  not  worthy.  I  never  feel  my  utter  un- 
worthiness  as  I  do  in  the  presence  of  a  setting  hen. 

When  the  adult  hen  in  my  presence  expresses  a  desire  to  Set  I  excuse  my- 
self and  go  away.     That  is  the  supreme  moment  when  a  hen  desires  to  be 

(167) 


1G8 


REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


aloue.  That  is  no  time  for  me  to  introduce  my  shallow  levity.  I  never  do  it. 
It  is  after  death  that  I  most  fully  appreciate  the  hen.  When  she  has  been 
cut  down  early  in  life  and  fried  I  respect  her.  No  one  can  look  upon  the  still 
features  of  a  young  hen  overtaken  by  death  in  life's  young  morning,  snuffed 
out  as  it  were,  like  an  old  tin  lantern  in  a  gale  of  wiiid,  without  being  visibly 
affected. 

But  it  is  not  the  hen  who  desires  to  set  for  the  purpose  of  getting  out  an 
early  edition  of  spring  chickens  that  I  am  averse  to.  It  is  the  aged  hen,  Avho 
is  in  her  dotage,  and  whose  eggs,  also,  are  in  their  second  childhood.  Upon 
this  hen  I  shower  my  anathemas.  Overlooked  by  the  pruning-hook  of  time, 
shallow  in  her  remarks,  and  a  wall-flower  in  society,  she  deposits  her  quota  of 
eggs  in  the  catnip  conservatory,  far  from  the  haunts  of  men,  and  then  in  Au- 
gust, when  eggs  are  extremely  low  and  her  collection  of  no  value  to  any  one 
but  the  antiquarian,  she  proudly  calls  attention  to  her  summer's  work. 

This  hen  does  not  win  the  general  confidence.  Shunned  by  good  society 
during  life,  her  death  is  only  regretted  by  those  who  are  called  upon  to  assist 
at  her  obsequies.  Selfish  through  life,  her  death  is  regarded  as  a  calamity  by 
those  alone  who  are  expected  to  eat  her. 

And  what  has  such  a  hen  to  look  back  upon  in  her  closing  hours  ?  A  long 
life,  perhaps,  for  longevity  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  this  class  of  hens ; 

but  of  what  has  that  life  been  productive?  How 
many  golden  hours  has  she  frittered  away  hovering 
over  a  porcelain  door-knob  trying  to  hatch  out  a 
litter  of  Queen  Anne  cottages.  How  many  nights 
has  she  passed  in  solitude  on  her  lonely  nest,  with  a 
heart  filled  with  bitterness  toward  all  mankind, 
hoping  on  against  hope  that  in  the  fall  she  would 
come  off  the  nest  with  a  cunning  little  brick  block, 
perhaps. 

Such  is  the  history  of  the  aimless  hen.  While 
others  were  at  work  she  stood  around  with  her 
hands  in  her  pockets  and  criticised  the  policy  of  those  who  labored,  and  when 
the  summer  waned  she  came  forth  with  nothing  but  regret  to  wander  listlessly 
about  and  freeze  off  some  more  of  her  feet  during  the  winter.  For  such  a 
hen  death  can  have  no  terrors. 


THE  RESULT  OF  PATIENCE. 


U/oodtie^  U/illiam's  Story. 

f^E  had  about  as  ornery  and  triflin'  a  crop  of  kids  in  Calaveras 
county,  thirty  years  ago,  as  you  could  gather  in  with  a  fine-tooth 
comb  and  a  brass  band  in  fourteen  States.  For  ways  that  was 
'^'^  J  kittensome  they  were  moderately  active  and  abnormally  protu- 
berant. That  was  the  prevailing  style  of  Calaveras  kid,  when  Mr.  George  W. 
Mulqueen  come  there  and  wanted  to  engage  the  school  at  the  old  camp,  where 
I  hung  up  in  the  days  when  the 


country  was  new  and  the  mur- 
mur of  the  six-shooter  was  heard 
in  the  land. 

"George  W.  Mulqueen  was 
a  slender  young  party  from  the 
effete  East,  with  conscientious 
scruples  and  a  hectic  flush. 
Both  of  these  was  agin  him  for 
a  promoter  of  school  discipline 
and  square  root.  He  had  a 
heap  of  information  and  big 
sorrowful  eyes. 

"So  fur  as  I  was  concerned, 
I  didn't  feel  like  swearing  around 
George  or  using  any  language 
that  would  sound  irrelevant  in  a 
ladies'  boodore ;  but  as  for  the  kids  of  the  school,  they  didn't  care  a  blamed 
cent.     They  just  hollered  and  whooped  like  a  passle  of  Sioux. 

"  They  didn't  seem  to  respect  literary  attainments  or  expensive  knowledge. 
They  just  simply  seemed  to  respect  the  genius  that  come  to  that  country  to 
win  their  young  love  with  a  long-handled  shovel  and  a  blood-shot  tone  of 
voice.     That's  what  seemed  to  catch  the  Calaveras  kids  in  the  early  days. 

(169) 


WINNING    THEIR    YOUNG    LOVE. 


170  REMAEKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

"  George  liad  weak  lungs,  and  they  kept  to  work  at  him  till  they  drove  him 
into  a  mountain  fever,  and  finally  into  a  metallic  sarcophagus. 

"Along  about  the  holidays  the  sun  went  down  on  George  W.  Mulqueen's 
life,  just  as  the  eternal  sunlight  lit  up  the  dewy  eyes.  You  will  pardon  my 
manner,  Nye,  but  it  seemed  to  me  just  as  if  George  had  climbed  up  to  the  top 
of  Mount  Cavalry,  or  wherever  it  was,  with  that  whole  school  on  his  back,  and 
had  to  give  up  at  last. 

"It  seemed  kind  of  tough  to  me,  and  I  couldn't  help  blamin'  it  onto  the 
school  some,  for  there  was  a  half  a  dozen  big  snoozers  that  didn't  go  to  school 
to  learn,  but  just  to  raise  Ned  and  turn  up  Jack, 

"Well,  they  killed  him,  anyhow,  Pud  that  settled  it. 

9p  ¥^  ^p  7F  ^  'F  'F  'F  'F 

"The  school  run  kind  of  wild  till  Feboowary,  and  then  a  husky  young  ten- 
derfoot, with  a  fist  like  a  mule's  foot  in  full  bloom,  made  an  application  for  the 
place,  and  allowed  he  thought  he  could  maintain  discipline  if  they'd  give  him 
a  chance.  Well,  they  ast  him  when  he  wanted  to  take  his  place  as  tutor,  and 
he  reckoned  he  could  begin  to  tute  about  Monday  follering. 

"  Sunday  afternoon  he  went  up  to  the  school-house  to  look  over  the  ground, 
and  to  arrange  a  plan  for  an  active  Injin  campaign  agin  the  hostile  hoodlums 
of  Calaveras. 

"Monday  he  sailed  in  about  9  A.  M.  with  his  grip-sack,  and  begun  the 
discharge  of  his  juties. 

"He  brought  in  a  bunch  of  mountain-willers,  and,  after  driving  a  big  rail- 
road-spike into  the  door-casing,  over  the  latch,  he  said  the  senate  and  house 
would  sit  with  closed  doors  during  the  morning  session.  Several  large,  white- 
eyed  holy  terrors  gazed  at  him  in  a  kind  of  dumb,  inquiring  tone  of  voice,  but 
he  didn't  say  much.  He  seemed  considerably  reserved  as  to  the  plan  of  the 
campaign.  The  new  teacher  then  unlocked  his  alligator-skin  grip,  and  took 
out  a  Bible  and  a  new  self-cocking  weepon  that  had  an  automatic  dingus  for 
throwing  out  the  empty  shells.  It  was  one  of  the  bull-dog  variety,  and  had 
the  laugh  of  a  joyous  child. 

"He  read  a  short  passage  from  the  Scriptures,  and  then  pulled  off  his  coat 
and  hung  it  on  a  nail.  Then  he  made  a  few  extemporaneous  remarks,  after 
which  he  salivated  the  palm  of  his  right  hand,  took  the  self -cocking  songster 
in  his  left,  and  proceeded  to  wear  out  the  gads  over  the  varied  protuberances 
of  his  pupils. 


wooDTicK  William's  story.  171 

"People  passing  by  thought  they  must  be  beating  carpets  in  the  school- 
house.  He  pointed  the  gun  at  his  charge  with  his  left  and  manipulated  the 
gad  with  his  right  duke.  One  large,  overgrown  Missourian  tried  to  crawl  out 
of  the  winder,  but,  after  he  had  looked  down  the  barrel  of  the  shooter  a  moment, 
he  changed  his  mind.  He  seemed  to  realize  tliat  it  would  be  a  violation  of  the 
rules  of  the  school,  so  he  came  back  and  sat  down. 

"After  he  wore  out  the  foliage.  Bill,  he  pulled  the  spike  out  of  that  door, 
put  on  his  coat  and  went  away.  He  never  was  seen  there  again.  He  didn't 
ask  for  any  salary,  but  just  walked  off  qiiietly,  and  that  summer  we  accidently 
heard  that  he  was  George  W.  Mulqueen's  brother." 


Ip  U/asl7i9($toi7. 


Jl  r  HAVE  just  returned  from  a  polite  and  recherche  party  here.  "Washing- 
#  ton  is  the  hot-bed  of  gayety,  and  general  headquarters  for  the  recherche 
yl|  business.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  bontonger  aggregation  than  the  one 
■^  I  was  just  at,  to  use  the  words  of  a  gentleman  who  was  there,  and  who 
asked  me  if  I  wrote  "The  Heathen  Chinee." 

He  was  a  very  talented  man,  with  a  broad  sweep  of  skull  and  a  vague  yearn- 
ing for  something  more  tangible — to  drink.  He  was  in  Washington,  he  said, 
in  the  interests  of  Mingo  county.  I  forgot  to  ask  him  where  Mingo  county 
might  be.  He  took  a  great  interest  in  me,  and  talked  with  me  long  after  he 
really  had  anything  to  say.  He  was  one  of  those  fluent  conversationalists  fre- 
quently met  with  in  society.  He  used  one  of  these  web-perfecting  talkers — 
the  kind  that  can  be  fed  with  raw  Roman  punch,  and  that  will  turn  out  punc- 
tuated talk  in  links,  like  varnished  sausages.  Being  a  poor  talker  myself,  and 
rather  more  fluent  as  a  listener,  I  did  not  interrupt  him. 

He  said  that  he  was  sorry  to  notice  how  young  girls  and  their  parents  came 
to  Washington  as  they  would  to  a  matrimonial  market. 

I  was  sorry  also  to  hear  it.  It  pained  me  to  know  that  young  ladies  should 
allow  themselves  to  be  bamboozled  into  matrimony.  Why  was  it,  I  asked,  that 
matrimony  should  ever  single  out  the  young  and  fair? 

"Ah,"  said  he,  "it  is  indeed  rough!" 

He  then  breathed  a  sigh  that  shook  the  foilage  of  the  speckled  geranium 
near  by,  and  killed  an  artificial  caterpillar  that  hung  on  its  branches. 

"Matrimony  is  all  right,"  said  he,  "if  properly  brought  about.  It  breaks 
my  heart,  though,  to  notice  how  Washington  is  used  as  a  matrimonial  market. 
It  seems  to  me  almost  as  if  these  here  young  ladies  were  brought  here  like 
slaves  and  exposed  for  sale."  I  had  noticed  that  they  were  somewhat  exposed, 
but  I  did  not  know  that  they  were  for  sale.  I  asked  him  if  the  waists  of  party 
dresses  had  always  been  so  sadly  in  the  minority,  and  he  said  they  had. 

I  danced  with  a  beautiful  young  lady  whose  trail  had  evidently  caught  in 
a  doorway.  She  hadn't  noticed  it  till  she  had  walked  out  partially  through 
her  costume. 


IN  WASHINGTON.  173 

I  do  not  think  a  lady  ought  to  give  too  much  thought  to  her  apparel; 
neither  shoukl  slie  feel  too  much  above  her  clothes.  I  say  this  in  the  kindest 
spirit,  because  I  believe  that  man  should  be  a  friend  to  woman.  No  family 
circle  is  complete  without  a  woman.  She  is  like  a  glad  landscape  to  the  weary 
eye.  Individually  and  collectively,  woman  is  a  great  adjunct  of  civilization 
and  progress.  The  electric  light  is  a  good  thing,  but  how  pale  and  feeble  it 
looks  by  the  light  of  a  good  woman's  eyes.  The  telephone  is  a  great  inven- 
tion. It  is  a  good  thing  to  talk  at,  and  murmur  into  and  deposit  profanity  in ; 
but  to  take  up  a  conversation,  and  keep  it  up,  and  follow  a  man  out  through  the 
fi'ont  door  with  it,  the  telephone  has  still  much  to  learn  from  Avoman. 

It  is  said  that  our  government  officials  are  not  sufficiently  paid ;  and  I  pre- 
sume that  is  the  case,  so  it  became  necessary  to  economize  in  every  way ;  but, 
why  should  wives  concentrate  all  their  economy  on  the  waist  of  a  dress? 
When  chest  protectors  are  so  cheap  as  they  now  are,  I  hate  to  see  people  suffer,  and 
there  is  more  real  suffering,  more  privation  and  more  destitution,  pervading 
the  Washington  scapula  and  clavicle  this  winter  than  I  ever  saw  before. 

But  I  do  not  hope  to  change  this  custom,  though  I  spoke  to  several  ladies 
about  it,  and  asked  them  to  think  it  over.  I  do  not  think  they  will.  It  seems 
almost  wicked  to  cut  off  the  best  part  of  a  dress  and  put  it  at  the  other  end  of 
the  skirt,  to  be  trodden  under  feet  of  men,  as  I  may  say.  They  smiled  good 
humoredly  at  me  as  I  tried  to  impress  my  views  upon  them,  but  should  I  go 
there  again  next  season  and  mingle  in  the  mad  whirl  of  Washington,  where 
these  fair  women  are  also  mingling  in  said  mad  whirl,  I  presume  that  I  will  find 
them  clothed  in  the  same  gaslight  waist,  with  trimmings  of  real  vertebrae  down 
the  back. 

Still,  what  does  a  man  know  about  the  proper  costume  of  a  woman?  He 
knows  nothing  whatever.  He  is  in  many  ways  a  little  inconsistent.  Why  does 
a  man  frown  on  a  certain  costume  for  his  wife,  and  admire  it  on  the  first  woman 
he  meets?  Why  does  he  fight  shy  of  religion  and  Christianity  and  talk  very 
freely  about  the  church,  but  get  mad  if  his  wife  is  an  infidel  ? 

Crops  around  Washington  are  looking  well.  AVinter  wheat,  crocusses  and 
indefinite  postponements  were  never  in  a  more  thrifty  condition.  Quite  a 
number  of  people  are  here  who  are  waiting  to  be  confirmed.  Judging  from 
their  habits,  they  are  lingering  around  here  in  order  to  become  confirmed 
drunkards. 

I  leave  here  to-morrow  with  a  large,  wet  towel  in  my  plug  hat.     Perhaps 


174 


REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


I  should  have  said  nothing  on  this  dress  reform  question  while  my  hat  is  fit- 
ting me  so  immediately.  It  is  seldom  that  I  step  aside  from  the  beaten  path 
of  rectitude,  but  last  evening,  on  the  way  home,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  didnH 
do  much  else  but  step  aside.  At  these  parties  no  charge  is  made  for  punch. 
It  is  perfectly  free.  I  asked  a  colored  man  avIio  was  standing  near  the  punch 
bowl,  and  who  replenished  it  ever  and  anon,  what  the  damage  was,  and  he  drew 
himself  up  to  his  full  height. 

Possibly  I  did  wrong,  but  I  hate  to  be  a  burden  on  anyone.  It  seemed 
odd  to  me  to  go  to  a  first-class  dance  and  find  the  supper  and  the  band  and  the 
rum  all  paid  for.     It  must  cost  a  good  deal  of  money  to  run  this  government. 


fr\y  ^xperiepee  as  39  /^^ri(;ulturi5t. 


URING  the  past  season  I  was  considerahly 
interested  in  agriculture,  I  met  with  some 
success,  but  not  enough  to  madden  me  with 
joy.  It  takes  a  good  deal  of  success  to  un- 
screw my  reason  and  make  it  totter  on  its 
throne.  I've  had  trouble  with  my  liver,  and 
various  other  abnormal  conditions  of  the  vital 
organs,  but  old  reason  sits  there  on  his  or  her 
throne,  as  the  case  may  be,  through  it  all. 

Agriculture  has  a  charm  about  it  which  I 
can  not  adequately  describe.  Every  product 
of  the  farm  is  furnished  by  nature  with  something  that  loves  it,  so  that  it  will 
never  be  neglected.  The  grain  crop  is  loved  by  the  weevil,  the  Hessian  fly, 
and  the  chinch  bug ;  the  watermelon,  the  squash  and  the  cucumber  are  loved 
by  the  squash  bug ;  the  potato  is  loved  by  the  potato  bug ;  the  sweet  corn  is 
loved  by  the  ant,  thou  sluggard ;  the  tomato  is  loved  by  the  cut- worm ;  the 
plum  is  loved  by  the  curculio,  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth,  so  that  no  plant  that 
grows  need  be  a  wall-flower.  [Early  blooming  and  extremely  dwarf  joke  for 
the  table.  Plant  as  soon  as  there  is  no  danger  of  frosts,  in  drills  four  inches 
apart.  When  ripe,  pull  it,  and  eat  raw  with  vinegar.  The  red  ants  may 
be  added  to  taste.  ] 

Well,  I  began  early  to  spade  up  my  angle-worms  and  other  pets,  to  see  if 
they  had  withstood  the  severe  winter.  I  found  they  had.  They  were  unusu- 
ally bright  and  cheerful.  The  potato  bugs  were  a  little  sluggish  at  first,  but 
as  the  spring  opened  and  the  ground  warmed  up  they  pitched  right  in,  and 
did  first-rate.  Every  one  of  my  bugs  in  May  looked  splendidly.  I  was  most 
worried  about  my  cut-worms.  Away  along  in  April  I  had  not  seen  a  cut- 
worm, and  I  began  to  fear  they  had  suffered,  and  perhaps  perished,  in  the 
extreme  cold  of  the  previous  winter. 

(ITS) 


176 


REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


One  morning  late  in  the  montli,  however,  I  saw  a  cut-worm  come  out  from 
behind  a  cabbage  stump  and  take  off  his  ear  muff.  He  Avas  a  little  stiff  in  the 
joints,  but  he  had  not  lost  hope.  I  saw  at  once  now  was  the  time  to  assist 
him  if  I  had  a  s[)ark  of  humanity  left.  I  searched  every  work  I  could  find 
on  agriculture  to  find  out  what  it  was  that  farmers  fed  their  blamed  cut- worms, 
but  all  scientists  seemed  to  be  silent.  I  read  the  agricultural  reports,  the 
dictionary,  and  the  encyclopedia,  but  they  didn't  throw  any  light  on  the  sub- 
ject. I  got  wild.  I  feared  that  I  had  brought  bvit  one  cut-worm  through  the 
winter,  and  I  was  liable  to  lose  him  unless  I  could  find  out  what  to  feed  him. 
I  asked  some  of  my  neighbors,  but  they  spoke  jeeringly  and  sarcastically.     I 

know  now  how  it  was.  All  their 
cut- worms  had  frozen  down  last  win- 
ter, and  they  couldn't  bear  to  see  me 
get  ahead. 

All  at  once,  an  idea  struck  me.  I 
haven't  recovered  from  the  concus- 
sion yet.  It  was  this :  the  worm  had 
wintered  under  a  cabbage  stalk;  no 
doubt  he  was  fond  of  the  beverage. 
I  acted  upon  this  thought  and  bought 
him  two  dozen  red  cabbage  plants,  at 
fifty  cents  a  dozen.  I  had  hit  it  the 
first  pop.  He  was  passionately  fond 
of  these  plants,  and  would  eat  three 
in  one  night.  He  also  had  several 
matinees  and  sauerkraut  lawn  festi- 
vals for  his  friends,  and  in  a  week  I 
bought  three  dozen  more  cabbage 
plants.  By  this  time  I  had  collected 
a  large  group  of  common  scrub  cut- worms,  early  Swedish  cut- worms,  dwarf 
Hubbard  cut-worms,  and  short-horn  cut-worms,  all  doing  well,  but  still,  I 
thought,  a  little  hide-bound  and  bilious.  They  acted  languid  and  listless.  As 
my  squash  bugs,  currant  worms,  potato  bugs,  etc.,  were  all  doing  well  without 
care,  I  devoted  myself  almost  exclusively  to  my  cut-worms.  They  were  all 
strong  and  well,  but  they  seemed  melancholy  with  nothing  to  eat,  day  after 
day,  but  cabbages. 


THEY   SPOKE   JEERINGLY. 


MY   EXPERIENCE   AS   AN   AGRICULTURIST.  177 

I  therefore  bought  five  dozen  tomato  plants  that  were  tender  and  large. 
These  I  fed  to  the  cut- worms  at  the  rate  of  eiglit  or  ten  in  one  niglit.  In  a 
week  the  cut-worms  had  thrown  off  that  air  of  ennui  and  languor  that  I  had 
formerly  noticed,  and  were  gay  and  light-hearted.  I  got  them  some  more 
tomato  plants,  and  then  some  more  cabbage  for  change.  On  the  whole  I  was 
as  proud  as  any  young  farmer  who  has  made  a  success  of  anything. 

One  morning  I  noticed  that  a  cabbage  plant  was  left  standing  unchanged. 
The  next  day  it  Avas  still  there,  I  was  thunderstruck,  I  dug  into  the  ground. 
My  cut- worms  were  gone.  I  spaded  up  the  whole  patch,  but  there  wasn't  one. 
Just  as  I  had  become  attached  to  them,  and  they  had  learned  to  look  forward 
each  day  to  my  coming,  when  they  would  almost  come  up  and  eat  a  tomato- 
plant  out  of  my  hand,  some  one  had  robbed  me  of  them.  I  was  almost  wild 
with  despair  and  grief.  Suddenly  something  tumbled  over  my  foot.  It  was 
mostly  stomach,  but  it  had  feet  on  each  corner.  A  neighbor  said  it  was  a 
warty  toad.  He  had  eaten  up  my  summer's  work!  He  had  swallowed  my 
cunning  little  cut-worms.  I  tell  you,  gentle  reader,  unless  some  way  is  pro- 
vided, whereby  this  warty  toad  scourge  can  be  wiped  out,  I  for  one  shall 
relinquish  the  joys  of  agricultural  pursuits.  When  a  common  toad,  with  a 
sallow  complexion  and  no  intellect,  can  swallow  up  my  summer's  work,  it  is 
time  to  pause. 


fi  \\e\u  f\ii\:o<^rzp\)  f\\bufr\. 


w 


^HIS  autograph  business  is  getting  to  be  a  little  bit  tedious.     It  is  all 

':    one-sided.     I  want  to  get  even  some  how,   on  some  one.     If  I  can't 

come  back  at  the  autograph  fiend  himself,  perhaps  I  might  make  some 

"^       other  fellow  creature  unhappy.     That  would  take   my  mind  off  tlie 

woes  that  are  inflicted  by  the  man  who  is  making  a  collection  of  the  autographs 

of  "prominent  men,"  and  who  sends  a  printed  circular  formally  demanding 

your  autograph,  as  the  tax  collector  would  demand  your  tax. 

John  Comstock,  the  President  of  the  First  National  Bank,  of  Hudson,  the 
other  day  suggested  an  idea.  I  gave  him  an  autograph  copy  of  my  last  great 
work,  and  he  said:  "Now,  I'm  a  man  of  business.  You  gave  me  your  auto- 
graph, I  give  you  mine  in  return.  That's  what  we  call  business."  He  then 
signed  a  brand  new  $5  national  bank  note,  the  cashier  did  ditto,  and  the  two 
autographs  were  turned  over  to  me. 

Now,  how  would  it  do  to  make  a  collection  of  the  signatures  of  the  presi- 
dents and  cashiers  of  national  banks  of  the  United  States  in  the  above  manner? 
An  album  containing  the  autographs  of  these  bank  officials  would  not  only  be 
a  handsome  heirloom  to  fork  over  to  posterity,  but  it  would  possess  intrinsic 
value.  In  pursuance  of  this  idea,  I  have  been  considering  the  advisability  of 
issuing  the  following  letter: 

To  the  Presidents  and  Cashiers  of  the  National  Banks  of  the  United  States. 

Gentlemen — I  am  now  engaged  in  making  a  collection  of  the  autographs 
of  the  presidents  and  cashiers  of  national  banks  throughout  the  Union,  and  to 
make  the  collection  uniform,  I  have  decided  to  ask  for  autographs  written  at 
the  foot  of  the  national  currency  bank  note  of  the  denomination  of  ^5.  I  am 
not  sectarian  in  my  religious  views,  and  I  only  suggest  this  denomination  for 
the  sake  of  uniformity  throughout  the  album. 

Card  collections,  cat  albums  and  so  forth,  may  please  others,  but  I  prefer 
to  make  a  collection  that  shall  show  future  ages  who  it  was  that  built  up  our 
finances,  and  furnished  the  sinews  of  war.  Some  may  look  upon  this  move  as 
a  mercenary  one,  but  with  me  it  is  a  passion.  It  is  not  simply  a  freak,  it  is  a 
desire  of  my  heart. 

(178) 


A   NEW   AUTOGRAPH    ALBUM.  179 

lu  return  I  would  be  glad  to  give  my  own  autograph,  either  by  itself  or 
attached  to  some  little  gem  of  thought  which  might  occur  to  my  mind  at  the 
time. 

I  have  always  taken  a  great  interest  in  the  currency  of  the  country.  So 
far  as  possible  I  have  made  it  a  study.  I  have  watched  its  growth,  and  noted 
with  some  regret  its  natural  reserve.  I  may  say  that,  considering  meagre 
opportunities  and  isolated  advantages  afforded  me,  no  one  is  more  familiar  with 
the  habits  of  our  national  currency  than  I  am;  Yet,  at  times  my  laboratory 
has  not  been  so  abundantly  supplied  with  specimens  as  I  could  have  wished. 
This  has  been  my  chief  drawback. 

I  began  a  collection  of  railroad  passes  some  time  ago,  intending  to  file 
them  away  and  pass  the  collection  down  through  the  dim  vista  of  coming  years, 
but  in  a  rash  moment  I  took  a  trip  of  several  thousand  miles,  and  those  passes 
were  taken  up. 

I  desire,  in  conclusion,  gentlemen,  to  call  your  attention  to  the  fact  that  I 
have  always  been  your  friend  and  champion.  I  have  never  robbed  the  bank 
of  a  personal  friend,  and  if  I  held  your  autographs  I  should  deem  you  my 
personal  friends,  and  feel  in  honor  bound  to  discourage  any  movement  look- 
ing toward  an  unjust  appropriation  of  the  funds  of  your  bank.  The  auto- 
graphs of  yourselves  in  my  possession,  and  my  own  in  your  hands,  would  be 
regarded  as  a  tacit  agreement  on  my  part  never  to  rob  your  bank.  I  would 
even  be  willing  to  enter  into  a  contract  with  you  not  to  break  into  your  vaults, 
if  you  insist  upon  it.  I  would  thus  be  compelled  to  confine  myself  to  the 
stage  coaches  and  railroad  trains  in  a  great  measure,  but  I  am  getting  now  so 
I  like  to  spend  my  evenings  at  home,  anyhow,  and  if  I  do  well  this  year,  I 
shall  sell  my  burglars'  tools  and  give  myself  up  to  the  authorities. 

You  will  understand,  gentlemen,  the  delicate  nature  of  this  request,  I  trust, 
and  not  misconstrue  my  motives.  My  intentions  are  perfectly  honorable,  and 
my  idea  in  doing  this  is,  I  may  say,  to  supply  a  long  felt  Avant. 

Hoping  that  what  I  have  said  will  meet  with  your  approval  and  hearty  co- 
operation, and  that  our  very  friendly  business  relations,  as  they  have  existed 
in  the  past,  may  continue  through  the  years  to  come,  and  that  your  bank  may 
wallow  in  success  till  the  cows  come  home,  or  words  to  that  effect,  I  beg  leave 
to  subscribe  myself,  yours  in  favor  of  one  country,  one  flag  and  one  bank  account. 


f\  l^esi(^9. 


PosTOFFiCE  Divan,  Lakamie  City,  W.  T.,  Oct.  1,  1883. 
F70  THE  PRESIDENT  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES: 


If. 


Sir. — I  beg  leave  at  this  time  to  officially  tender  my  resignation 

as  postmaster  at  this  place,  and  in  due  form  to  deliver  the  great  seal 

^'^     and  the  key  to  the  front  door  of  the  office.     The  safe  combination  is 

set  on  the  numbers  33,  60  and  09,  though  I  do  not  remember  at  this  moment 

which  comes  first,  or  how  many  times  you  revolve  the  knob,  or  which  direction 

you  should  turn  it  at  first  in  order  to  make  it  operate. 

There  is  some  mining  stock  in  my  private  drawer  in  the  safe,  which  I 
have  not  yet  removed.  This  stock  you  may  have,  if  you  desire  it.  It  is  a 
luxury,  but  you  may  have  it.  I  have  decided  to  keep  a  horse  instead  of  this  min- 
ing stock.     The  horse  may  not  be  so  pretty,  but  it  will  cost  less  to  keep  him. 

You  will  find  the  postal  cards  that  have  not  been  used  under  the  distributiiig 
table,  and  the  coal  down  in  the  cellar.  If  the  stove  draws  too  hard,  close  the 
damper  in  the  pipe  and  shut  the  general  delivery  window. 

Looking  over  my  stormy  and  eventful  administration  as  postmaster  here, 
I  find  abundant  cause  for  thanksgiving.  At  the  time  I  entered  upon  the  duties 
of  my  office  the  department  was  not  yet  on  a  paying  basis.  It  was  not  even  self- 
sustaining.  Since  that  time,  with  the  active  co-operation  of  the  chief  executive 
and  the  heads  of  the  department,  I  have  been  able  to  make  our  postal  system 
a  paying  one,  and  on  top  of  that  I  am  now  able  to  reduce  the  tariff  on  average- 
sized  letters  from  three  cents  to  two.  I  might  add  that  this  is  rather  too  too, 
but  I  will  not  say  anything  that  might  seem  undignified  in  an  official  resigna- 
tion which  is  to  become  a  matter  of  history. 

Through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  a  tempestuous  term  of  office  I  have  safely 
passed.  I  am  able  to  turn  over  the  office  to-day  in  a  higldy  improved  condi- 
tion, and  to  present  a  purified  and  renovated  institution  to  my  successor. 

Acting  under  the  advice  of  Gen.  Hatton,  a  year  ago,  I  removed  the  feather 
bed    with    which    my  predecessor,   Deacon  Hayford,  had   bolstered    up  his 

(180) 


A   RESIGN. 


181 


administration  by  stuffing  the  window,  and  substituted  glass.  Finding  nothing 
in  the  book  of  instructions  to  postmasters  which  made  the  feather  bed  a  part 
of  my  official  duties,  I  filed  it  away  in  an  obscure  place  and  burned  it  in  e^gj^ 
also  in  the  gloaming.     Tliis 

act   maddened    my    prede-  r:^--^rwmm:!M'''^ll^flBWF^ 

cessor  to  such  a  degree, 
that  he  then  and  there  be- 
came a  candidate  for  justice 
of  the  peace  on  the  Demo- 
cratic ticket.  The  Demo- 
cratic party  was  able,  how- 
ever, with  what  aid  it  secured 
from  the  Republicans,  to 
plow  the  old  man  under  to  a 
great  degree. 

It  was  not  long  after  I 
had  taken  my  official  oath 
before  an  era  of  unexampled 
prosperity  opened  for  the 
American  people.  The  price 
of  beef  rose  to  a  remarkable 
altitude,  and  other  vegfeta- 
bles  commanded  a  good  fig- 
ure and  a  ready  market.  We 
then  began  to  make  active 
preparations  for  the  intro- 
duction of  the  strawberry- 
roan  two- cent  stamps  and  the 
black- and-tan  postal  note. 
One  reform  has  crowded  up- 
on the  heels  of  another,  until  the  country  is  to-day  upon  the  foam -crested  wave 
of  permanent  prosperity. 

Mr.  President,  I  cannot  close  this  letter  without  thanking  yourself  and  the 
heads  of  departments  at  Washington  for  your  active,  cheery  and  prompt  co- 
operation in  these  matters.  You  can  do  as  you  see  fit,  of  course,  about  incor- 
porating this  idea  into  your  Thanksgiving  proclamation,  but  rest  assured  it 


STRICT   ATTENTION   TO   BUSINESS. 


182  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

would  not  be  ill-timed  or  inopportune.  It  is  not  alone  a  credit  to  myself.  It 
reflects  credit  upon  the  administration  also. 

I  need  not  say  that  I  herewith  transmit  my  resignation  with  great  sorrow 
and  genuine  regret.  We  have  toiled  on  together  month  after  month,  asking 
for  no  reward  except  the  innate  consciousness  of  rectitude  and  the  salary  as 
fixed  by  law.  Now  we  are  to  separate.  Here  the  roads  seem  to  fork,  as  it 
were,  and  you  and  I,  and  the  cabinet,  must  leave  each  other  at  this  point. 

You  will  find  the  key  under  the  door-mat,  and  you  had  better  turn  the  cat 
out  at  night  when  you  close  the  office.  If  she  does  not  go  readily,  you  can 
make  it  clearer  to  her  mind  by  throwing  the  cancelling  stamp  at  her. 

If  Deacon  Hayford  does  not  pay  up  his  box-rent,  you  might  as  well  put 
his  mail  in  the  general  delivery,  and  when  Bob  Head  gets  drunk  and  insists  on 
a  letter  from  one  of  his  wives  every  day  in  the  week,  you  can  salute  him 
through  the  box  delivery  with  an  old  Queen  Anne  tomahawk,  which  you  will 
find  near  the  Etruscan  water-pail.  This  will  not  in  any  manner  surprise  either 
of  these  parties. 

Tears  are  unavailing.  I  once  more  become  a  private  citizen,  clothed  only 
with  the  right  to  read  such  postal  cards  as  may  be  addressed  to  me  personally, 
and  to  curse  the  inefficiency  of  the  postoffice  department.  I  believe  the  voting 
class  to  be  divided  into  two  parties,  viz:  Those  who  are  in  the  postal  service, 
and  those  who  are  mad  because  they  cannot  receive  a  registered  letter  every 
fifteen  minutes  of  each  day,  including  Sunday. 

Mr.  President,  as  an  official  of  this  Government  I  now  retire.  My  term  of 
office  would  not  expire  until  1886.  I  must,  therefore,  beg  pardon  for  my 
eccentricity  in  resigning.  It  will  be  best,  perhaps,  to  keep  the  heart-breaking 
news  from  the  ears  of  European  powers  until  the  dangers  of  a  financial  panic 
are  fully  past.     Then  hurl  it  broadcast  with  a  sickening  thud. 


/ny  fA'pe. 


-ciS^ 


y   HAVE  decided  to  sacrifice  another  valuable  piece  of  mining  property  this 
spring.     It  would  not  be  sold  if  I  had  the  necessary  capital  to  develop  it. 
It  is  a  good  mine,  for  I  located  it  myself.     I  remember  well  the  day  I 
climbed  up  on  the  ridge-pole  of  the  universe  and  nailed  my  location  notice 
to  the  eaves  of  the  sky. 

It  was  in  August  that  I  discovered  the  Vanderbilt  claim  in  a  snow-storm. 
It  cropped  out  apparently  a  little  southeast  of  a  point  where  the  arc  of  the 
orbit  of  Venus  bisects  the  milky  way,  and  ran  due  east  eighty  chains,  three 
links  and  a  swivel,  thence  south  fifteen  paces  and  a  half  to  a  blue  spot  in  the 
sky,  thence  proceeding  west  eighty  chains,  three  links  of  sausage  and  a  half 
to  a  fixed  star,  thence  north  across  the  lead  to  place  of  beti-innino-. 

The  Vanderbilt  set  out  to  be  a  carbonate  deposit,  but  changed  its  mind.  I 
sent  a  piece  of  the  cropping  to  a  man  over  in  Salt  Lake,  who  is  a  good  assayer 
and  quite  a  scientist,  if  he  would  brace  up  and  avoid  humor.  His  assay  read 
as  follows  to-wit: 

Salt  Lake  City,  U.  T.,  August  25,  1877. 
Mr.  Bill  Nye: — Your  specimen  of  ore  No.  35832,  current  series,  has  been 
submitted  to  assay  and  shows  the  following  result: 

Metal.  Ounces.  Value  per  ton. 

Gold - -- .- 

Silver ._ 

Railroad  iron 1 

Pyrites  of  poverty 9 

Parasites  of  disappointraent - 90 

]\IcViCKER,  Assayer. 

Note. — I  also  find  that  the  formation  is  igneous,  prehistoric  and  erroneous. 
If  I  were  you  I  would  sink  a  prospect  shaft  below  the  vertical  slide  where  the 
old  red  brimstone  and  preadamite  slag  cross-cut  the  malachite  and  intersect 
the  schist.  I  think  that  would  be  schist  about  as  good  as  anything  you  could  do. 
Then  send  me  specimens  with  ^2  for  assay  and  Ave  shall  see  what  we  shall  see. 

Well,  I  didn't  know  he  was  "an  humorist,"  you  see,  so  I  went  to  work  on. 

(183) 


184 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


the  Vanderbilt  to  try  and  do  what  Mac.  said.  I  sank  a  shaft  and  everything 
else  I  could  get  hold  of  on  that  claim.  It  was  so  high  that  w^e  had  to  carry 
water  up  there  to  drink  Avhen  W6  began  and  before  fall  we  had  struck  a  vein 
of  the  richest  water  you  ever  saw.  We  had  more  water  in  that  mine  than  the 
regular  army  could  use. 

When  w'e  got  down  sixty  feet  I  sent  some  pieces  of  the  pay  streak  to  the 
assayer  again.  This  time  he  wrote  me  (]^uite  a  letter,  and  at  the  same  time 
inclosed  the  certificate  of  assay. 

Salt  Lake  City,  U.  T.,  October  3,  1877. 

Me.  Bill  Nye: — Your  specimen  of  ore  No.  3G132,  current  series,  has  been 
submitted  to  assay  and  shows  the  following  result: 

Metal.                                                                                 Oimces.  Yalue  per  ton. 

Gold - - 

Silver ._ 

Stove  polish trace  .01 

Old  gray  whetstone trace  .01 

Bromide  of  axle  grease stain 

Copperas.  trace  5c  worth 

Blue  vitrol trace  5c  worth 

McViCKER,  Assayer. 

In  the  letter  he  said  there  was,  no  doubt,  something  in  the  claim  if  I  could 
get  the  true  contact  with  calcimine  walls  denoting  a  true  fissure.  He  thought 
I  ought  to  run  a  drift.     I  told  him  I  had  already  run  adrift. 

Then  he  said  to  stope  out  my  stove  polish  ore  and  sell  it  for  enough  to  go 
on  with  the  development.  I  tried  that,  but  capital  seemed  coy.  Others  had 
been  there  before  me  and  capital  bade  me  soak  my  head  and  said  other  things 
which  grated  harshly  on  my  sensitive  nature. 

The  Vanderbilt  mine,  with  all  its  dips,  spurs,  angles,  variations,  veins, 
sinuosities,  rights,  titles,  franchises,  prerogatives  and  assessments  is  now  for 
sale.  I  sell  it  in  order  to  raise  the  necessary  funds  for  the  development  of  the 
Governor  of  North  Carolina.  I  had  so  much  trouble  with  water  in  the  Vander- 
bilt, that  I  named  the  new  claim  the  Governor  of  North  Carolina,  because  he 
was  always  dry. 


f^u$\)  ai)d  /r\(?lody. 


ATELY  I  have  been  giving  a  good  deal  of  attention  to  hygiene — in  other 

people.     The  gentle  reader  will  notice  that,  as  a  rule,  the  man  who  gives 

the  most  time  and  thought  to  this  subject  is  an  invalid  himself;  just  as 

■^t^      the  young  theological  student  devotes   his  first   sermon  to  the  care  of 

children,  and  the  ward  politician  talks  the  smoothest  on  the  subject  of  how  and 

when  to  plant  ruta-bagas  or  wean  a  calf  from  the  parent  stem. 

Having  been  thrown  into  the  society  of  physicians  a  great  deal  the  past  two 
years,  mostly  in  the  role  of  patient,  I  have  given  some  study  to  the  human 
form;  its  structure  and  idiosyncracies,  as  it  were.  Perhaps  few  men  in  the 
same  length  of  time  have  successfully  acquired  a  larger  or  more  select  reper- 
toire of  choice  diseases  than  I  have.  I  do  not  say  this  boastfully.  I  sira])ly 
desire  to  call  the  attention  of  our  growing  youth  to  the  glorious  possibilities 
that  await  the  ambitious  and  enterprising  in  this  line. 

Starting  out  as  a  poor  boy,  with  few  advantages  in  the  way  of  disease,  I 
have  resolutely  carved  my  way  up  to  the  dizzy  heights  of  fame  as  a  clironic 
invalid  and  drug-soaked  relic  of  other  days.  I  inherited  no  disease  whatever. 
My  ancestors  were  poor  and  healthy.  They  bequeathed  me  no  snug  little 
nucleus  of  fashionable  malaria  such  as  other  boys  had.  I  was  obliged  to 
acquire  it  myself.  Yet  I  Avas  not  discouraged.  The  results  have  shown  that 
disease  is  not  alone  the  heritage  of  the  wealthy  and  the  great.  The  poorest 
of  us  may  become  eminent  invalids  if  we  will  only  go  at  it  in  the  right  way. 
But  I  started  out  to  say  something  on  the  subject  of  health,  for  there  are  still 
many  common  people  who  would  rather  be  healthy  and  unknown  than  obtain 
distinction  with  some  dazzling  new  disease. 

Noticing  many  years  ago  that  imperfect  mastication  and  dyspepsia  walked 
hand  in  hand,  so  to  speak,  Mr.  Gladsto2ie  adopted  in  his  family  a  regular  mas- 
tication scale;  for  instance,  thirty-two  bites  for  steak,  twenty-two  for  fish,  and 
so  forth.  Now  I  take  this  idea  and  improve  upon  it.  Two  statesmen  can 
always  act  better  in  concert  if  they  will  do  so. 

(185) 


186 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


With  Mr.  Gladstone's  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  health  and  my  own  musical 
genius,  I  have  hit  on  a  way  to  make  eating  not  only  a  duty,  but  a  pleasure. 
Eating  is  too  frequently  irksome.  ,  There  is  nothing  about  it  to  make  it 
attractive. 

What  we  need  is  a  union  of  mush  and  melody,  if  I  may  be  allowed  that 
expression.  Mr.  Gladstone  has  given  us  the  graduated  scale,  so  that  we  know 
just  what  metre  a  bill  of  fare  goes  in  as  quick  as  we  look  at  it.  In  this 
way  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  music  and  mastication  will  march  down 
through  the  dim  vista  of  years  together. 

The  Baked  Bean  Chant,  the  Vermicelli  Waltz,  the  Mush  and  Milk  March, 
the  sad  and  touchful  Pumpkin  Pie  Refrain,  the  gay  and  rollicking  Oxtail  Soup 
Gallop,  and  the  melting  Ice  Cream  Serenade  will  yet  be  common  musical  names. 

Taking  different  classes  of  food,  I  have  set  them  to  music  in  such  a  way 
that  the  meal,  for  instance,  may  open  with  a  Soup  Overture,  to  be  followed  by 
a  Roast  Beef  March  in  C,  and  so  on,  closing  with  a  kind  of  Mince  Pie  La  Som- 
nambula  pianissimo  in  G.  Space,  of  course,  forbids  an  extended  description 
of  this  idea  as  I  propose  to  carry  it  out,  but  the  conception  is  certainly  grand. 
Let  us  picture  the  jaws  of  a  whole  family  moving  in  exact  time  to  a  Strauss 
waltz  on  the  silent  remains  of  the  late  lamented  hen,  and  we  see  at  once  how 
much  real  pleasure  may  be  added  to  the  process  of  mastication. 


Jt^e  Blase  Yoiiv)(^  fT\aj). 

HAVE  just  formed  the  acquaintance  of  a  blase  young  man.  I  have  been 
on  an  extended  trip  with  him.  He  is  about  twenty-two  years  old,  but  he 
is  already  weary  of  life.  He  was  very  careful  all  the  time  never  to  be 
^•^^  exuberant.  No  matter  how  beautiful  the  landscape,  he  never  allowed  him- 
self to  exube. 

Several  times  I  succeeded  in  startling  him  enough  to  say  "Ah!"  but  that 
was  all.  He  had  the  air  all  the  time  of  a  man  who  had  been  reared  in  luxury 
and  fondled  so  much  in  the  lap  of  wealth  that  he  was  weary  of  life,  and  yearned 
for  a  bright  immortality.  I  have  often  wished  that  the  pruning-hook  of  time 
would  use  a  little  more  discretion.  The  blase  young  man  seemed  to  be  tired 
all  the  time.     He  was  weary  of  life  because  life  was  hollow. 

He  seemed  to  hanker  for  the  cool  and  quiet  grave.  I  wished  at  times  that 
the  hankering  might  have  been  more  mutual.  But  what  does  a  cool,  quiet 
grave  want  of  a  young  man  who  never  did  anything  but  breathe  the  nice  pure 
air  into  his  froggy  lungs  and  spoil  it  for  everybody  else  ? 

This  young  man  had  a  large  grip-sack  with  him  which  he  frequently  con- 
sulted. I  glanced  into  it  once  while  he  left  it  open.  It  was  not  right,  but  I 
did  it.     I  saw  the  following  articles  in  it: 

31  Assorted  Neckties.  1  Powder  Rag. 

1  pair  Socks  (whole).  1  Gob  ecru-colored  Taffy. 

1  pair  do.  (not  so  whole),  1  Hair-brush,  with  Ginger  Hair  in  it. 

17  Collars.  1  Pencil  to  pencil  Moustache  at  night. 

1  Shirt.  1  Bread  and  Milk  Poultice  to  put  on 

1  quart  Cuff-Buttons.  Moustache  on  retiring,  so  that  it 

1  suit  discouraged  Gauze  Underwear.  will  not  forget  to  come  out  again 

1  box  Speckled  Handkerchiefs.  the  next  day. 

1  box  Condition  Powders.  1  Box  Trix  for  the  breath. 

1  Toothbrush  (prematurely  bald).  1  Box  Chloride  of  Lime  to  use  in  case 

1  copy  Martin  F.  Tupper's  Works.  breath  becomes  unmanageable. 

1  box  Prepared  Chalk.  1  Ear-spoon  (large  size). 

1  Pair    Tweezers   for  encouraging  1  Plain  Mourning  Head  for  Cane. 

Moustache  to  come  out  to  break-  1  Vulcanized  Rubber  Head  for  Cane 

fast.  (to  bite  on). 

(187) 


188 


EEMAEKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


in  working  Ears 


1  Shoe-liorn  to  use 
into  Ear-MufPs. 
1  Pair  Corsets. 
1  Dark-brown  Wash  for  Mouth,  to  be 


1  Fancy  Head  for  Cane  (evening). 
1  Picnic  Head  for  Cane. 


used  in  the  morning. 
1  Large  Box  Emiiii,   to   be   used  in 

Society. 
1  Box  Spruce  Gum,  made  in  Chicago 

and  warranted  pure. 
1  Gallon  Assorted  Shirt  Studs. 
1  Polka-dot  Handkerchief  to   pin  in 

side  pocket,  but  not  for  nose. 
1  Plain  Handkerchief  for  nose. 
1  Fancy  Head  for  Cane  (morning). 


Bottle  Peppermint. 

do.     Catnip. 
Waterbury  Watch. 
Chains  for  same. 
B(jx  Letter  Paper. 
Stick  Sealing  Wax  (baby  blue), 
do  "      (Bismarck  brindle). 

do  "  (mashed    goose- 

berry). 
1  Seal  for  same. 

1  Family  Crest  (wash-tub  rampant  on 
a  field  calico). 

There  were  other  little  articles  of  virtu 
and  bric-a-brac  till  you  couldn't  rest,  but 
these  were  all  that  I  could  see  thoroughly 
before  he  returned  from  the  wash-room. 

I  do  not  like  the  hlase  young  man  as  a 
traveling  companion.  He  is  nix  honum. 
He  is  too  E  j)lurihus  for  me.  He  is  not  de 
ti'op  or  sciatica  enough  to  siiit  my  style. 

If  he  belonged  to  me  I  would  picket 
him  out  somewhere  in  a  hostile  Indian 
country,  and  then  try  to  nerve  myself  up 
for  the  result. 

It  is  better  to  go  through  life  reading 
the  signs  on  the  ten-story  buildings  and 
acquiring  knowledge,  than  to  dawdle  and 
"Ah!"  adown  our  pathway  to  the  tomb 
and  leave  no  record  for  posterity  except 
that  we  had  a  good  neck  to  pin  a  necktie 
upon.  It  is  not  pleasant  to  be  called  green,  but  I  would  rather  be  green  and 
aspiring  than  blase  and  hide-bound  at  nineteen. 

Let  us  so  live  that  when  at  last  we  pass  away  our  friends  will  not  be  imme- 
diately and  uproariously  reconciled  to  our  death. 


HE   IS   NIX   BONUM. 


f^i5tory  of  Babylor). 


^HE  history  of  Babylon  is  fraught  with  sadness.     It  illustrates,  only  too 
■^S*    painfully,  that  the  people  of  a  town  make  or  mar  its  success  rather 


than  the  natural  resources  and  advantages  it  may  possess  on  the  start. 
Thus  Babylon,  with  3,000  years  the  start  of  Minneapolis,  is  to-day 
a  hole  in  the  ground,  while  Minneapolis  socks  her  XXXX  flour  into  every 
corner  of  the  globe,  and  the  price  of  real  estate  would  make  a  common  dynasty 
totter  on  its  throne. 

Babylon  is  a  good  illustration  of  the  decay  of  a  town  that  does  not  keep 
up  with  the  procession.  Compare  her  to-day  with  Kansas  City.  While  Baby- 
lon was  the  capital  of  Chaldea,  1,270  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  and 
Kansas  City  was  organized  so  many  years  after  that  event  that  many  of  the 
people  there  have  forgotten  all  about  it,  Kansas  City  has  doubled  her  popula- 
tion in  ten  years,  while  Babylon  is  simply  a  gothic  hole  in  the  ground. 

Why  did  trade  and  emigration  turn  their  backs  upon  Babylon  and  seek  out 
Minneapolis,  St.  Paul,  Kansas  City  and  Omaha?  Was  it  because  they  were 
blest  with  a  bluer  sky  or  a  more  genial  sun  ?  Not  by  any  means.  While 
Babylon  lived  upon  what  she  had  been  and  neglected  to  advertise,  other  towns  with 
no  history  extending  back  into  the  mouldy  past,  whooped  with  an  exceeding 
great  whoop  and  tore  up  the  ground  and  shed  printers'  iidi;  and  showed  marked 
signs  of  vitality.     That  is  the  reason  that  Babylon  is  no  more. 

This  life  of  ours  is  one  of  intense  activity.  We  cannot  rest  long  in  idle- 
ness without  inviting  forgetfulness,  death  and  oblivion.  "Babylon  was  prob- 
ably the  largest  and  most  magnificent  city  of  the  ancient  world."  Isaiah, 
who  lived  about  300  years  before  Herodotus,  and  whose  remarks  are  unusually 
free  from  local  or  political  prejudice,  refel's  to  Babylon  as  "tlie  glory  of  king- 
doms, the  beauty  of  the  Chaldic's  excellency,"  and,  yet,  while  Cheyenne  has 
the  electric  light  and  two  daily  papers,  Babylon  hasn't  got  so  much  as  a  skat- 
ing rink. 

(189) 


190  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

A  city  foiirteen  miles  square  with  a  brick  wall  around  it  355  feet  liigli,  slie 
lias  quietly  forgotten  to  advertise,  and  in  turn  she,  also,  is  forgotten. 

Babylon  was  remarkable  for  the  two  beautiful  palaces,  one  on  each  side  of 
the  river,  and  the  great  temple  of  Belus.  Connected  with  one  of  these  pal- 
aces was  the  hanging  garden,  regarded  by  the  Greeks  as  one  of  the  seven 
wonders  of  the  world,  but  that  was  prior  to  the  erection  of  the  Washington 
monument  and  civil  service  reform. 

This  was  a  square  of  400  Greek  feet  on  each  side.  The  Greek  foot  was 
not  so  long  as  the  modern  foot  introduced  by  Miss  Mills,  of  Ohio.  This  gar- 
den was  supported  on  several  tiers  of  open  arches,  built  one  over  the  other, 
like  the  walls  of  a  classic  theatre,  and  sustaining  at  each  stage,  or  story,  a 
solid  platform  from  which  the  arches  of  the  next  story  sprung.  This  struc- 
ture was  also  supported  by  the  common  council  of  Babylon,  who  came  forward 
with  the  city  funds,  and  helped  to  sustain  the  immense  weight. 

It  is  presumed  that  Nebuchadnezzar  erected  this  garden  before  his  mind 
became  affected.  The  tower  of  Belus,  supposed  by  historians  with  a  good 
memory  to  have  been  600  feet  high,  as  there  is  still  a  red  chalk  mark  in  the 
sky  where  the  top  came,  was  a  great  thing  in  its  way.  I  am  glad  I  was  not 
contiguous  to  it  when  it  fell,  and  also  that  I  had  omitted  being  born  prior  to 
that  time. 

"When  we  turn  from  this  picture  of  the  past,"  says  the  historian,  Rawlin- 
son,  referring  to  the  beauties  of  Babylon,  "to  comtemplate  the  present  condi- 
tion of  these  localities,  we  are  at  first  struck  with  astonishment  at  the  small 
traces  which  remain  of  so  vast  and  wonderful  a  metropolis.  The  broad  walls  of 
Babylon  are  utterly  broken  down.  God  has  swept  it  with  the  besom  of 
destruction," 

One  cannot  help  wondering  why  the  use  of  the  besom  should  have  been 
abandoned.  As  we  gaze  upon  the  former  site  of  Babylon  we  are  forced  to 
admit  that  the  new  besom  sweeps  clean.  On  its  old  site  no  crumbling  arches 
or  broken  columns  are  found  to  indicate  her  former  beauty.  Here  and  there 
huge  heaps  of  debris  alone  indicate  that  here  Godless  wealth  and  wicked,  sel- 
fish, indolent,  enervating,  ephemeral  pomp,  rose  and  defied  the  supreme  laAvs 
to  which  the  bloated,  selfish  millionaire  and  the  hard-handed,  hungry  laborer 
alike  must  bow,  and  they  are  dust  to-day. 

Babylon  has  fallen.  I  do  not  say  this  in  a  sensational  way  or  to  depreciate 
the  value  of  real  estate  there,  but  from  actual  observation,   and  after  a  full 


HISTORY   OF   BABYLON.  191 

investigation,  I  assert  without  fear  of  successful  contradiction,  that  Babylon 
has  seen  her  best  days.  Her  boom  let  is  busted,  and,  to  use  a  political  phrase, 
her  oriental  hide  is  on  the  Chaldean  fence. 

Such  is  life.  We  enter  upon  it  reluctantly ;  we  wade  through  it  doubt- 
fully, and  die  at  last  timidly.  How  we  Americans  do  blow  about  what  we  can  do 
before  breakfast,  and,  yet,  even  in  our  own  brief  history,  how  we  have  demon- 
strated what  a  little  thing  the  common  two-legged  man  is.  He  rises  up  rapidly 
to  acquire  much  wealth,  and  if  he  delays  about  going  to  Canada  he  goes  to 
Sing  Sing,  and  we  forget  about  him.  There  are  lots  of  modern  Babylonians 
in  New  York  City  to-day,  and  if  it  were  my  business  I  would  call  their  atten- 
tion to  it.  The  assertion  that  gold  will  procure  all  things  has  been  so  common 
and  so  popular  that  too  many  consider  first  the  bank  account,  and  after  that 
honor,  home,  religion,  humanity  and  common  decency.  Even  some  of  the 
churches  have  fallen  into  the  notion  that  first  comes  the  tall  church,  then  the 
debt  and  mortgage,  the  ice  cream  sociable  and  the  kingdom  of  Heaven.  Cash 
and  Christianity  go  hand  in  hand  sometimes,  but  Christianity  ought  not  to 
confer  respectability  on  anbody  who  comes  into  the  church  to  purchase  it. 

I  often  think  of  the  closing  appeal  of  the  old  preacher,  who  was  more 
earnest  than  refined,  perhaps,  and  in  winding  up  his  brief  sermon  on  the  Chris- 
tian life,  said:  "A  man  may  lose  all  his  wealth  and  get  poor  and  hungry  and 
still  recover,  he  may  lose  his  health  and  come  down  clost  to  the  dark  stream 
and  still  git  well  again,  but,  when  he  loses  his  immortal  soul  it  is  good-bye 
John." 


[pxjely  J^orrors. 


DROPPED  in  the  other  day  to  see  New  York's  great  congress  of  wax 
figures  and  soft  statuary  carnival.  It  is  quite  a  success.  The  first  thing 
you  do  on  entering  is  to  contribute  to  the  pedestal  fund.  New  York  this 
^^  spring  is  mostly  a  large  rectangular  box  with  a  hole  in  the  top,  through 
which  the  genial  public  is  cordially  requested  to  slide  a  dollar  to  give  the 
goddess  of  liberty  a  boom. 

I  was  astonished  and  appalled  at  the  wealth  of  apertures  in  Gotham 
through  which  I  was  exjjected  to  slide  a  dime  to  assist  some  deserving  object. 
Every  little  while  you  run  into  a  free-lunch  room  where  there  is  a  model  ship 
that  will  start  up  and  operate  if  you  feed  it  with  a  nickle.  I  never  visited  a 
town  that  offered  so  many  inducements  for  early  and  judicious  investments  as 
New  York. 

But  we  were  speaking  of  the  wax  works.  I  did  not  tarry  long  to  notice 
the  presidents  of  the  United  States  embalmed  in  wax,  or  to  listen  to  the  band 
of  lutists  who  furnished  music  in  the  winter  garden.  I  ascertained  where  the 
chamber  of  horrors  was  located,  and  went  there  at  once.  It  is  lovely.  I  have 
never  seen  a  more  successful  aggregation  of  horrors  under  one  roof  and  at 
one  price  of  admission. 

If  you  want  to  be  shocked  at  cost,  or  have  your  pores  opened  for  a  merely 
nominal  price,  and  see  a  show  that  you  will  never  forget  as  long  as  you  live, 
that  is  the  place  to  find  it.  I  never  invested  my  money  so  as  to  get  so  large  a 
return  for  it,  because  I  frequently  see  the  whole  show  yet  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  and  the  cold  perspiration  ripples  down  my  spinal  column  just  as  it  did 
the  fii'st  time  I  saw  it. 

The  chamber  of  horrors  certainly  furnishes  a  very  durable  show.  I  don't 
think  I  was  ever  more  successfully  or  economically  horrified. 

I  got  quite  nervous  after  a  while,  standing  in  the  dim  religious  light  watch- 
ing the  lovely  horrors.  But  it  is  the  saving  of  money  that  I  look  at  most.  I 
have  known  men  to  pay  out  thousands  of  dollars  for  a  collection  of  delirium 
tremens  and  new-laid  horrors  no  better  than  these  that  you  get  on  week  days 

(192) 


LOVELY    HORRORS. 


193 


for  fifty  cents  and  on  Sundays  for  two  bits.      Certainly  New  York  is  tlie  place 
where  you  get  your  money's  worth. 

There  are  horrors  there  in  that  crypt  that  are  well  worth  doul)le  the  price 
of  admission.  One  peculiarity  of  the  chamber  of  horrors  is  that  you  finally 
get  nervous  when  anyone  touches  you,  and  you  immediately  suspect  that  he  is 
a  horror  who  has  come  out 
of  his  crypt  to  get  a  breath 
of  fresh  air  and  stretch  his 
legs. 

That  is  the  reason  I 
shuddered  a  little  when  I 
felt  a  man's  hand  in  my 
pocket.  It  was  so  unex- 
pected, and  the  surround- 
ings were  such  that  I  must 
have  appeared  startled. 
The  man  was  a  strano^er  to 
me,  though  I  could  see 
that  he  was  a  perfect  gen- 
tleman. His  clothes  were 
superior  to  mine  in  every 
way,  and  he  had  a  certain 
refinement  of  manners 
which  ])etrayed  his  ill- 
concealed  Knickerbocker 
lineage  high. 

I  said,  "Sir,  you  will 
find  my  fine  cut  tobacco  in  the  other  pocket."  This  startled  him  so  that  he 
wheeled  about  and  wildly  dashed  into  the  arms  of  a  wax  policeman  near  the 
door.  When  he  discovered  that  he  was  in  the  clutches  of  a  suit  of  second-hand 
clothes  filled  with  wax,  he  seemed  to  be  greatly  annoyed  and  strode  rapidly 
away. 

I  returned  to  view  a  chaste  and  truthful  scene  where  one  man  had  success- 
fully killed  another  with  a  club.  I  leaned  pensively  against  a  column  with  my 
own  spinal  column,  wrapped  in  thought. 

Pretty  soon  a  young  gentleman  from  New  Jersey  with  an  Adam's  apple  on 


HE   WAS    GREATLY    ANNOYED. 


194 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


him  like  a  full-grown  yam,  and  accompanied  by  a  young  lady  also  from  the 
mosquito  jungles  of  Jersey,  touched  me  on  the  bosom  with  his  umbrella  and 
began  to  explain  me  to  his  companion. 

"This,"  said  the  Adam's  apple  with  the  young  man  attached  to  it,   "is 

Jesse  James,  the  great  out- 
law chief  from  Missouri. 
How  life-like  he  is.  Little 
would  you  think,  Emeline, 
that  he  would  as  soon  dis- 
embowel a  bank,  kill  the 
entire  board  of  directors 
of  a  railroad  company  and 
ride  off  the  rolling  stock, 
as  you  would  wrap  your- 
self around  a  doughnut. 
How  tender  and  kind  he 
looks.  He  not  only  looks 
gentle  and  peaceful,  but  he 
looks  to  me  as  if  he  wasn't 
real  bright." 

I  then  uttered  a  pierc- 
ing shriek  and  the  young 
man  from  New  Jersey 
went  away.  Nothing  is  so 
embarrassing  to  an  emi- 
nent man  as  to  stand 
quietly  near  and  hear  peo- 
ple discuss  him. 

But  it  is  remarkable 
to  see  people  get  fooled  at 
a  wax  show.  Every  day  a  wax  figure  is  taken  for  a  live  man,  and  live  people 
are  mistaken  for  wax.  I  took  hold  of  a  waxen  hand  in  one  corner  of  the 
winter  garden  to  see  if  the  ring  was  a  real  diamond,  and  it  flew  up  and  took 
me  across  the  ear  in  such  a  life-like  manner  that  my  ear  is  still  hot  and  there 
is  a  roaring  in  my  head  that  sounds  very  disagreeable,  indeed. 


THIS 


JESSE    JAMES. 


Y/ 


5170  Bite  of  a  /r\ad  Doi^. 

"FAMILY  PHYSICIAN,"  published  in  1883,  says,  for  the  bite  of  a 
mad  dog:  "Take  ash-colored  ground  liverwort,  cleaned,  dried,  and 
tSi^  powdered,  half  an  ounce ;  of  black  pepper,  powdered,  a  quarter  of  an 
~'^i>^-  ounce.  Mix  these  well  together,  and  divide  the  powder  into  four 
doses,  one  of  which  must  be  taken  every  morning,  fasting,  for  four  morninp-s 
successively  in  half  an  English  pint  of  cow's  milk,  warm.  After  these  four 
doses  are  taken,  the  patient  must  go  into  the  cold  bath,  or  a  cold  sprint  or 
river,  every  morning,  fasting,  for  a  month.  He  must  be  dipped  all  over,  but 
not  stay  in  (with  his  head  above  water)  longer  than  half  a  minute  if  the  water 
is  very  cold.  After  this  he  must  go  in  three  times  a  week  for  a  fortnight 
longer.     He  must  be  bled  before  he  begins  to  take  the  medicine." 

It  is  very  difficult  to  know  just  what  is  best  to  do  when  a  person  is  bitten 
by  a  mad  dog,  but  my  OAvn  advice  would  be  to  kill  the  dog.  After  that  feel  of 
the  leg  where  bitten,  and  ascertain  how  serious  the  injury  has  been.  Then 
go  home  and  put  on  another  pair  of  pantaloons,  throwing  away  those  that  have 
been  lacerated.  Parties  having  but  one  pair  of  pantaloons  will  have  to  seques- 
ter themselves  or  excite  remarks.  Then  take  a  cold  bath,  as  suggested  above, 
but  do  not  remain  in  the  bath  (with  the  head  above  water)  more  than  half  an 
hour.  If  the  head  is  under  water,  you  may  remain  in  the  bath  until  the 
funeral,  if  you  think  best. 

When  going  into  the  bath  it  would  be  well  to  take  something  in  your  pocket 
to  bite,  in  case  the  desire  to  bite  something  should  overcome  you.  Some  use 
a  common  shingle-nail  for  this  purpose,  while  others  prefer  a  personal  friend. 
In  any  event,  do  not  bite  a  total  stranger  on  an  empty  stomach.  It  might 
make  you  ill. 

Never  catch  a  dog  by  the  tail  if  he  has  hydrophobia.  Although  that  end 
of  the  dog  is  considered  the  most  safe,  you  never  know  when  a  mad  dog  may 
reverse  himself. 

If  you  meet  a  mad  dog  on  the  street,  do  not  stop  and  tiy  to  quell  him  with 

(195) 


196  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE, 

a  glance  of  the  eye.  Many  have  tried  to  do  that,  and  it  took  several  days  to 
separate  the  two  and  tell  which  was  mad  dog  and  which  Avas  queller. 

The  real  hydrophobia  dog  generally  ignores  kindness,  and  devotes  himself 
mostly  to  the  introduction  of  his  justly  celebrated  virus.  A  good  thing  to  do 
on  observing  the  approach  of  a  mad  dog  is  to  flee,  and  remain  fled  until  he  has 
disappeared. 

Hunting  mad  dogs  in  a  crowded  street  is  great  sport.  A  young  man  with 
a  new  revolver  shooting  at  a  mad  dog  is  a  fine  sight.  He  may  not  kill  the 
dog,  but  he  might  shoot  into  a  covey  of  little  children  and  possibly  get  one. 

It  would  be  a  good  plan  to  have  a  balloon  inflated  and  tied  in  the  back 
yard  during  the  season  in  which  mad  dogs  mature,  and  get  into  it  on  the 
approach  of  the  infuriated  animal  (get  into  the  balloon,  I  mean,  not  the  dog). 

This  plan  would  not  work  well,  however,  in  case  a  cyclone  should  come  at 
the  same  time.  When  we  consider  all  the  uncertainties  of  life,  and  the  danger 
from  hydi'ophobia,  cyclones  and  breach  of  promise,  it  seems  sometimes  as 
though  the  penitentiary  was  the  only  place  where  a  man  could  be  absolutely 
free  from  anxiety. 

If  you  discover  that  your  dog  has  hydrophobia,  it  is  absolutely  foolish  to 
try  to  cure  him  of  the  disease.  The  best  plan  is  to  trade  him  off  at  once  for 
anything  you  can  get.  Do  not  stop  to  haggle  over  the  price,  but  close  him 
right  out  below  cost. 

Do  not  tie  a  tin  can  to  the  tail  of  a  mad  dog.  It  only  irritates  him,  and  he 
might  resent  it  before  you  get  the  can  tied  on.  A  friend  of  mine,  who  was  a 
practical  joker,  once  sought  to  tie  a  tin  can  to  the  tail  of  a  mad  dog  on  an 
empty  stomach.  His  widow  still  points  with  pride  to  the  marks  of  his  teeth 
on  the  piano.  If  mad  dogs  would  confine  themselves  exclusively  to  practical 
jokers,  I  would  be  glad  to  endow  a  home  for  indigent  mad  dogs  out  of  my  own 
private  funds. 


f\rT}o\d  \lI\T)\e\re\d. 


HIS  great  man  lived  in  the  old  romantic  days  when  it  was  a  common 

thing  for  a  patriot  to  lay  down  his  life  that  his  country  might  live. 

He  knew  not  fear,  and  in  his  noble  heart  his  country  was  always  on 

^      top.     Not  alone  at  election   did  Arnold  sacrifice  himself,  but  on  the 

tented  field,  where  the  buffalo  grass  was  soaked  in  gore,  did  he  win  for  himself 

a  deathless  name.     He  was  as  gritty 

as  a  piece  of  liver  rolled  in  the  sand. 

Where  glory  waited,  there  you  would 

always  find  Arnold  Winkelreid  at  the 

bat,  with  William  Tell  on  deck. 

One  day  the  army  of  the  tyrant 

got  a  scoop  on  the  rebel  mountaineers 

and  it  looked  bad  for  the  struggling 

band   of   chamois  shooters.      While 

Arnokrs  detachment  didn't  seem  to 

amount  to  a  hill  of  beans,  the  hosts 

of  the  tyrannical  Austrian  loomed  up 

like  six  bits  and  things  looked  for- 
bidding.      It    occurred    to    Colonel 

Winkelreid   that   the    correct   thing; 

would  be  to  break  through  the  war 

front  of  the  enemy,  and  then,  while 

in  his  rear,  crash  in  his  cranium  with 

a  cross  gun  while  he  was  looking  the 

other  way.     Acting  on  this  thought, 

he  asked  several  of  his  most  trusted  men  to  break  through  the  Austrian  line, 

so  that  the  balance  of  the  command  could  pass  through  and  slaughter  enough 

of  the  enemy  for  a  mess,  but  these  men  seemed  a  little  reticent  about  doing  so, 

owing  to  the  inclemency  of  the  weather  and  the  threatening  aspect  of  the 

enemy.     The  armed  foe  swarmed  on  every  hillside  and  their  burnished  spears 

(197) 


CLEAR   THE   TRACK. 


198 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


glittered  below  in  the  canon.  You  couldn't  throw  a  stone  in  any  direction 
without  hitting  a  phalanx.     It  was  a  good  year  for  the  phalanx  business. 

Then  Arnold  took  off  his  suspenders,  and,  putting  a  fresh  chew  of  tobacco 
in  aroong  his  back  teeth,  he  told  his  men  to  follow  him  and  he  would  show 
them  his  little  racket.  Marching  up  to  the  solid  line  of  lances,  he  gathered 
an  armful  and  put  them  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach,  and,  as  he  sank  to  the  earth, 
he  spoke  in  a  shrill  tone  of  voice  to  posterity,  saying,  "Clear  the  track  for 
Liberty."     He  then  died. 

His  remains  looked  like  a  toothpick  holder. 

But  he  made  way  for  Liberty,  and  his  troops  were  victorious. 

At  the  inquest  it  was  shown  that  he  might  have  recovered,  had  not  the 
spears  sat  so  hard  on  his  stomach. 

Probably  A.  "VVinkelreid  will  be  remembered  with  gratitude  long  after  the 
name  of  the  Sweet  Singer  of  Michigan  shall  have  rotted  in  oblivion.  He 
recognized  and  stuck  to  his  proper  spear.  (This  is  a  little  mirthful  deviation 
of  my  own. ) 

I  can  think  of  some  men  now,  even  in  this  $  age  of  the  world,  who  could 
win  glory  by  doing  as  A.  W.  did.  They  could  offer  themselves  up.  They 
could  suffer  for  the  right  and  have  their  names  passed  down  to  posterity,  and 
it  would  be  perfectly  splendid. 

But  the  heroes  of  to-day  are  different.  They  are  just  as  courageous,  but 
they  take  a  wheelbarrow  and  push  it  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco,  or  they 
starve  forty  days  and  forty  nights  and  then  eat  watermelon  and  lecture,  or  they 
eat  800  snipe  in  800  years,  or  get  an  inspiration  and  kill  somebody  with  it. 

The  heroes  of  our  day  do  not  wear  peaked  hats  and  shoot  chamois,  and  sass 
tyrants  and  knock  the  worm  out  of  an  apple  at  fifty-nine  yards  rise  with  a  cross 
gun,  as  Tell  did,  but  they  know  how  to  be  loved  by  the  people  and  get  half  of 
the  gate  money.  They  are  brave,  but  not  mortally.  The  heroes  of  our  day 
all  die  of  old  age  or  political  malaria. 


/T\ijrray  ai^d  tl^e  /T\ormo9S. 

1©|[0V-  MUEKAY,  the  gritty  Gentile  governor  of  Utah,  would  be  noticed 
-Jll  IW-,   in  a  crowd.      He  is  very   tall,  yet  well  proportioned,  square-built   and 

iPyf  handsome.  He  was  called  fine  looking  in  Kentucky,  but  the  narrow- 
^  chested  apostle  of  the  abnormally  connubial  creed  does  not  see  any- 
thing pretty  about  him.  Murray  moves  about  through  Salt  Lake  City  in  a 
cool,  self-possessed  kind  of  way  that  is  very  annoying  to  the  church.  Full- 
bearded,  with  brown  moustache  and  dark  hair  parted  a  little  to  leeward  of  cen- 
ter ;  clothed  in  a  diagonal  Prince  Albert  coat,  a  silk  hat  and  other  clothes,  he 
strolls  through  Zion  like  a  man  who  hasn't  got  a  yelping  majority  of  ignorant 
lepers,  led  by  a  remorseless  gang  of  nickel-plated  apostles,  thirsting  for  liis 
young  blood.  I  really  believe  he  don't  care  a  continental.  The  days  of  the 
avenging  angel  and  the  meek-eyed  Danite,  carrying  a  large  sock  loaded  with 
buckshot,  are  over,  perhaps ;  but  only  those  who  try  to  be  Gentiles  in  a  land 
of  polygamous  wives  and  anonymous  white-eyed  children,  know  how  very  un- 
popular it  is.  Judge  Goodwin,  of  the  Tribune,  feels  lonesome  if  he  gets 
through  the  day  without  a  poorly  spelled,  spattered,  daubed  and  profane  valentine 
threatening  his  life.  The  last  time  I  saw  him  he  showed  me  a  few  of  them. 
They  generally  referred  to  him  as  a  blankety  blank  "skunk,"  and  a  "hound  of 
hell."  He  said  he  hoped  I  wound  pardon  him  for  the  apparent  egotism,  but 
he  felt  as  though  the  Tribune  was  attracting  attention  almost  everyday.  Some 
of  these  little  billet-doux  invited  him  to  call  at  a  try  sting  place  on  Tribune  avenue 
and  get  his  alleged  brains  scattered  over  a  vacant  lot.  Most  all  of  them  threat- 
ened him  with  a  rectangular  head,  a  tin  ear,  or  a  watch  pocket  under  the  eye. 
He  didn't  seem  to  care  mvich.  He  felt  pleased  and  proud.  Goodwin  was  al- 
ways pleased  with  things  that  other  men  didn't  like  much.  In  the  old  days, 
when  he  and  Mark  Twain  and  Dan  DeQuille  were  together,  this  was  noticed 
in  him.  Gov.  Murray  is  the  same  way.  He  feels  the  public  pulse,  and  says 
to  himself:  "Sometime  there's  going  to  be  music  here  by  the  entire  baud,  and 
I  desire  to  be  where  I  shan't  miss  a  note." 

There  are  people  who  think  the  Mormons  will  not  fight.     Perhaps  not. 
They  won't  if  they  are  let  alone,  and  allowed  to  fill  the  sage  brush  and  line  the 


(199) 


200  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

banks  of  the  Jordan  with  juvenile  no)n  do  plumes.  They  are  peaceful  while 
they  may  populate  Utah  and  invade  adjoining  territoties  with  their  herds  of 
ostensible  wives  and  prattling  progeny;  while  they  can  bring  in  every  year 
via  Castle  Garden  and  the  stock  yards  palace  emigrant  car,  thousands  of  prose- 
lyted paupers  from  every  pest  house  of  Europe,  and  the  free-love  idiots  of 
America.  But  when  Murray  gets  an  act  of  congress  at  his  back  and  a  squad 
of  nervy,  gamy,  law-abiding  monogamous  assistants  appointed  by  the  president 
under  that  act  of  congress  to  knock  crosswise  and  crooked  the  Jim  Crow  reve- 
lations of  Utah  and  Mormondom,  you  will  see  the  fur  fly,  and  the  fragrant  fol- 
lower of  a  false  prophet  will  rise  up  William  Riley  and  the  regular  army  will 
feel  lonesome.  I  asked  a  staff  officer  in  one  of  the  territories  last  summer  what 
would  be  the  result  if  the  Mormons,  with  their  home  drill  and  their  arms  and 
their  devotion  to  home  and  their  fraudulent  religion,  should  awake  Nicodemas 
and  begin  to  massacre  the  Gentiles,  and  the  regular  army  should  be  sent  over 
the  Wasatch  range  to  quell  the  trouble. 

"Why,"  said  he,  "the  white-eyed  followers  of  Mormonism  would  kill  the 
regular  army  with  clubs.  You  can  wear  out  a  tribe  of  hostile  Indians  when 
the  grass  gives  out  and  the  antelope  hunts  the  foothills,  but  the  Mormons  make 
everything  they  eat,  drink  and  wear.  They  don^t  care  whether  there's  tariff 
or  free  trade.  They  can  make  everything  from  gunpowder  to  a  knit  undershirt, 
from  a  $250  revelation  to  a  hand-made  cocktail.  When  a  church  gets  where  it 
can  make  such  cooking  whisky  as  the  Mormons  do,  it  is  time  to  call  for  volun- 
teers and  put  down  the  hydra-headed  monster." 

If  congress  don't  step  on  a  technicality  and  fall  down,  it  looks  like  amuse- 
ment ahead,  and  if  a  District  of  Columbia  rule,  or  martial  law,  or  tocsin  of  war 
is  the  result,  Gov.  Murray  is  a  good  style  of  war  governor.  He  isn't  the  kind 
of  a  man  to  put  on  his  wife's  gossamer  cloak  and  meander  over  into  Montana. 
He  would  give  the  matter  his  attention,  and  you  would  find  him  in  the  neigh- 
borhood when  the  national  government  decided  to  sit  down  on  disorderly  con- 
duct in  Utah.  The  first  lever  to  be  used  will  be  the  great  wealth  of  which  the 
Mormon  church  and  its  members  privately  are  possessed.  Then  the  oleagin- 
ous prophet  will  get  a  revelation  to  gird  up  his  loins  and  to  load  the  double- 
barrel  shotgun,  and  fire  the  culverin,  and  to  knock  monogamy  into  a  cocked 
hat.  Money  first  and  massacre  second..  They  can  draw  on  their  revelation 
supply  house  at  three  days,  any  time,  for  authority  to  fill  the  irrigation  ditches 
of  Zion  with  the  blood  of  the  Gentile  and  feed  his  vital  organs  to  the  coyote. 


/^bout  Qeolo^y. 

7^^!  EOLOGY  is  that  branch  of  natural  science  which  treats  of  the  structure 

'ill    '^^  of  the  earth's  crust  and  the  mode  of  formation  of  its  rocks.     It  is  a 

^Kill    pleasant  and  profitable  study,  and  to  the  man  who  has  married  rich  and 

5"^      does  not  need  to  work,  the  amusement  of  busting  geology  with  the 

Bible,  or  busting  the  Bible  with  geology  is  indeed  a  great  boon. 

Geology  goes  hand  in  hand  with  zoology,  botany,  physical  geography  and 
other  kindred  sciences.  Taxidermy,  chiropody  and  theology  are  not  kimh'ed 
sciences. 

Geologists  ascertain  the  age  of  the  earth  by  looking  at  its  teeth  and  count- 
ing the  wrinkles  on  its  horns.  They  have  learned  that  the  earth  is  not  only 
of  great  age,  but  that  it  is  still  adding  to  its  age  from  year  to  year. 

It  is  hard  to  say  very  much  of  a  gi-eat  science  in  so  short  an  article,  and 
that  is  one  great  obstacle  which  I  am  constantly  running  against  as  a  scientist. 

I  once  prepared  a  paper  in  astronomy  entitled  "The  Chronological  History 
and  Habits  of  the  Spheres."  It  was  very  exhaustive  and  weighed  four  pounds. 
I  sent  it  to  a  scientific  publication  that  was  supposed  to  be  working  for  the 
advancement  of  our  race.  The  editor  did  not  print  it,  but  he  wrote  me  a  crisp 
and  saucy  postal  card,  requesting  me  to  call  with  a  dray  and  remove  my  stuff 
before  the  board  of  health  got  after  it.  In  five  short  years  from  that  time  he 
was  a  corpse.  As  I  write  these  lines,  I  learn  with  ill-concealed  pleasure  that  he 
is  still  a  corpse.  An  awful  dispensation  of  Providence,  in  the  shape  of  a  large, 
wilted  cucumber,  laid  hold  upon  his  vitals  and  cursed  him  with  an  inward  pain. 
He  has  since  had  the  opportunity,  by  actual  personal  observation,  to  see 
whether  the  statements  by  me  relating  to  astronomy  were  true.  His  last 
words  were:  "Friends,  Bomans  and  countrymen,  beware  of  the  q-cumber. 
It  will  w  up."     It  was  not  original,  but  it  was  good. 

The  four  great  primary  periods  of  the  earth's  history  are  as  follows,  viz, 
to-wit : 

1.  The  Eozoic  or  dawn  of  life. 

2.  The  Pala30zoic  or  period  of  ancient  life. 

3.  The  Mesozoic  or  middle  period  of  life. 

4.  The  Neozoic  or  recent  period  of  life. 

(aoi) 


202 


EEMAEKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


Tliese  are  all  subdivided  again,  and  other  words  more  difficult  to  spell  are 
introduced  into  science,  thus  crowding  out  the  vulgar  herd  who  cannot  afford 
to  use  the  high  priced  terms  in  constant  conversation. 

Old  timers  state  that  the  primitive  condition  of  the  earth  was  extremely 
damp.  With  the  onward  march  of  time,  and  after  the  lapse  of  millions  of 
years,  men  found  that  they  could  get  along  with  less  and  less  water,  until  at 
last  we  see  the  pleasant,  blissful  state  of  things.  Aside  from  the  use  of  water 
at  our  summer  resorts,  that  fluid  is  getting  to  be  less  and  less  popular.     And 


.(^- 


THE    MASTODON. 


even  here  at  these  resorts  it  is  generally  flavored  with  some  foreign  substance. 
The  earth's  crust  is  variously  estimated  in  the  matter  of  thickness.  Some 
think  it  is  2,500  miles  thick,  which  would  make  it  safe  to  run  heavy  trains 
across  the  earth  anywhere  on  top  of  a  second  mortgage,  while  other  scientists 
say  that  if  we  go  down  one-tenth  of  that  distance  we  will  reach  a  place  where 
the  worm  dieth  not.     I  do  not  wish  to  express  an  opinion  as  to  the  actual  depth 


ABOUT    GEOLOGY.  203 

or  thickness  of  tlie  earth's  crust,  but  I  believe  that  it  is  none  too  thick  to 
suit  me. 

Thickness  in  the  earth's  crust  is  a  mighty  good  fault.  "We  estimate  the 
age  of  certain  strata  of  the  earth's  formation  by  means  of  a  union  of  our  knowl- 
edge of  plant  and  animal  life,  coupled  with  our  geological  research  and  a  good 
memory.  The  older  scientists  in  the  field  of  geology  do  not  rely  solely  upon 
the  tracks  of  the  hadrasaurus  or  the  cornucopia  for  their  data.  They  simply 
use  these  things  to  refresh  their  memory. 

I  wish  that  I  had  time  and  space  to  describe  some  of  the  beautiful  bacteria 
and  gigantic  worms  that  formerly  inhabited  the  earth.  Such  an  aggregation 
of  actual,  living  Silurian  monsters,  any  one  of  which  would  make  a  man  a  for- 
tune to-day,  if  it  could  be  kept  on  ice  and  exhibited  for  one  season  only.  You 
could  take  a  full  grown  mastodon  to-day,  and  with  no  calliope,  no  lithographs, 
no  bearded  lady,  no  clown  with  four  pillows  in  his  pantaloons  and  no  iron- 
jawed  woman,  you  could  go  across  this  continent  and  successfully  compete  with 
the  skating  rink. 

There  would  be  but  one  difficulty.  Your  expenses  would  not  be  heavy. 
The  mastodon  would  be  willing  to  board  around,  and  no  one  would  feel  like 
turning  a  mastodon  out  of  doors  if  he  seemed  to  be  hungry ;  but  he  might  get 
away  from  you  and  frolic  away  so  far  in  one  night  that  you  couldn't  get  him 
for  a  day  or  two,  even  if  you  sent  a  detective  for  him. 

If  I  had  a  mastodon  I  would  rather  take  him  when  he  was  young,  and  then 
I  could  make  a  pet  of  him,  so  that  he  could  come  and  eat  out  of  my  hand  with- 
out taking  the  hand  off  at  the  same  time.  A  large  mastodon  weighing  a  hun- 
dred tons  or  so  is  awkward,  too.  I  suppose  that  nothing  is  more  painful  than 
to  be  stepped  on  by  an  adult  mastodon. 

I  hope  at  some  future  time  to  write  a  paper  for  the  Academy  of  Science  on 
the  subject  of  "Deceased  Fauna,  Fossiliferous  Debris  and  Extinct  Jokes," 
showing  how,  when  and  why  these  early  forms  of  animal  life  came  to  be 
extinct. 


f\  U/allula  I^i(^l7t. 


HAVE  just  returned  after  a  short  tour  in  tlie  far  West.     I  made  the  tour 

with  my  ne^v  lecture,  which  I  am  delivering  this  winter  for  the  benefit, 
^J  L  and  under  the  auspices,  of  a  young  man  who  was  a  sufferer  in  the  great 
"^^^  rise-up-William-Pviley-and-come-along-with-me  cyclone,  which  occurred  at 
Clear  Lake,  in  this  State,  a  year  ago  last  September. 

In  said  cyclone,  said  young  man  was  severely  caressed  by  the  elements,  and 
tipped  over  in  such  a  way  as  to  shattea-  the  right  leg,  just  below  the  gambrel 
joint,  I  therefore  started  out  to  deliver  a  few  lectures  for  his  benefit,  and  in 
so  doing  have  made  a  4,000  mile  trip  over  the  Northern  Pacific  railway,  and 
the  Oregon  River  and  Navigation  company's  road.  On  the  former  line  the 
passenger  is  fed  by  means  of  the  dining-car,  a  very  good  style  of  entertain- 
ment, indeed,  and  well  worthy  of  the  age  in  which  we  live;  but  at  Wallula 
Junction  I  stopped  over  to  catch  a  west-bound  Oregon  Railway  and  N  avigation 
train. 

That  was  where  I  fooled  myself.  I  should  have  taken  my  valise  and  a 
rubber  door  mat  from  the  sleeping-car,  and  crawled  into  the  lee  of  a  snow 
fence  for  the  night.  I  did  not  give  the  matter  enough  thought.  I  just  simply 
went  into  the  hotel  and  registered  my  name  as  a  man  would  in  other  hotels. 
This  house  was  kept,  or  retained,  I  should  say,  by  a  relative  of  the  late  Mr. 
Shylock.  You  have  lieard,  no  doubt,  how  some  of  the  American  hotels  have 
frowned  on  Mr.  Shylock's  relatives.  Well,  Mr.  Shylock's  family  got  even  with 
the  whole  American  people  the  night  I  stopped  in  No,  2,  second  floor  of  the 
Abomination  of  Desolation.  As  a  representative  of  the  American  people,  I 
received  for  my  nation,  vicariously,  the  stripes  intended  for  many  generations. 

No.  2  is  regarded  as  a  room  by  people  who  have  not  been  in  it.  By  those 
who  have,  it  is  looked  upon  as  a  morgue. 

When  I  stepped  into  it,  I  noticed  an  odor  of  the  dead  past.     It  made  me 

shudder  my  overshoes  off.     The  first  thing  that  attracted  my  attention  after  I 

was  left  alone,  was  the  fact  that  other  people  had  occupied  this  room  before  I 

(ao4) 


A   WALLULA   NIGHT. 


205 


had,  and,  althougli  they  were  gone,  they  had  left  a  kind  of  an  air  of  inferior- 
ity that  clung  to  the  alleged  apartment,  an  air  of  plug  tobacco  and  perspira- 
tion, if  you  will  pardon  the  expression. 

They  had  also  left  a  pair  of  Venetian  pantaloons.  From  this  clue,  my 
active  brain  at  once  worked  out  the  problem  and  settled  the  fact  that  the  party 
who  had  immediately  preceded  me  was  a  man.  Long  and  close  study  of  the 
habits  and  characteristics  of  humanity  has  taught  me  to  reason  out  these  mat- 
ters, and  to  reach  accurate  conclusions  with  astonishing  rapidity. 

He  was  not  only  a  man,  but  he  was  a  short  man,  with  parenthetical  legs 
and  a  thoughtful  droop  to  the  seat  of  his  pants.  I  also  discovered  that  more 
of  this  man's  life  had  been  expended  in  sitting  on  a  pitch  pine  log  than  in 
prayer. 

One  of  his  front  teeth  was  gone,  also.  This  I  learned  from  a  large  cast  of 
his  mouth,  shown  on  the  end  of  a  plug  of  tobacco  still  left  in  the  pocket. 

In  "VVallula  there  is  a  marked  feeling  of  childlike  trust  and  confidence 
between  people.  It  is  a  feature  of  Wallula  society,  I  may  say.  The  people  of 
the  junction  trust  strangers  to  a  remark- 
able extent.  In  what  other  town  in  this 
whole  republic  would  a  pair  of  pantaloons 
be  thus  left  in  the  complete  power  of  a 
total  stranger,  a  stranger,  too,  to  whom 
pantaloons  were  a  great  boon?  I  could 
easily  have  caught  those  pantaloons  off 
the  nail,  thrust  them  into  my  bosom,  and 
fled  past  the  drowsy  night  clerk,  out  into 
the  great,  sheltering  arms  of  the  silent 
night,  but  I  did  not. 

Anon  through  the  long  hours  I  would 
awake  and  listen  fitfully  to  the  wail  of 
damned  souls,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  the  wail 
of  those  who  tried  to  stay  there  a  week, 
and  had  starved  to  death.  Here  was  their 
favorite  wailing  place.  Here  was  the  place  where  damned  souls  seemed  to 
throw  aside  all  restraint  and  have  a  good  time.  I  tried  to  keep  out  the  sound 
by  stuffing  the  pillow  in  my  ear,  but  what  is  a  cheap  hotel  pilloAV  in  a  man's 
ear,  if  he  wants  to  keep  the  noise  out. 


IN   SUSPENSE. 


20G  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

So  I  lay  there  and  listened  to  the  soft  sigh  of  the  bath  tub,  the  loud,  defi- 
ant challenge  of  the  athletic  butler  down  stairs,  the  last  weak  death  rattle  in 
the  throat  of  the  coffee  pot  in  the  dining  room,  and  the  wail  of  the  damned 
souls  who  had  formerly  stopped  at  this  hotel,  but  who  had  been  rescued  at  last, 
and  had  hilariously  gone  to  perdition,  only  to  come  back  at  night  and  torment 
the  poor  guest  by  bragging  over  the  superiority  of  hell  as  a  refuge  from  the 
AVallula  hotel. 

Now  and  then  in  the  night  I  would  almost  yield  to  a  wild  impulse  and  catch 
those  pantaloons  off  the  hook,  to  rush  out  and  go  to  Canada  with  them,  and 
then  I  would  softly  go  through  the  pockets  and  hang  them  back  again. 

It  was  an  awful  night.  When  morning  dawned  at  last,  and  I  took  the  pil- 
low out  of  my  ear  and  looked  in  the  delirious  and  soap-spattered  mirror,  I 
saw  that  my  beautiful  hair,  which  had  been  such  a  source  of  pride  to  me  ten 
years  ago,  had  disappeared  in  places.  I  paid  my  bill,  called  the  attention  of 
the  landlord  to  the  fact  that  I  had  not  taken  those  pantaloons  nor  betrayed  his 
trust,  and  then  I  went  away. 


plyii)(^  /r\ael7i9e5. 


A^K^  LONG  and  exhaustive  examination  of  the  history  of  flying  machines 
jjfmu  enables  me  to  give  briefly  some  of  the  main  points  of  a  few,  for  the 
|/ll'^  benefit  of  those  who  may  be  interested  in  this  science.  I  give  what  I 
"  ^"  "  do  in  order  to  prepare  the  public  to  take  advantage  of  the  different 
methods,  and  be  ready  at  once  to  fly  as  soon  as  the  weather  gets  pleasant. 

A  I'renchman  invented  a  flying-machine,  or  dof  unny,  as  we  scientists  would 
term  it,  in  IGOO  and  something,  whereby  he  could  sail  down  from  the  wood- 
shed and  not  break  his  neck.  He  could  not  rise  from  the  ground  like  a  lark 
and  trill  a  few  notes  as  he  skimmed  through  the  sky,  but  he  could  fall  off  an 
ordinary  hay  stack  like  a  setting  hen,  with  the  aid  of  his  wings.  His  name 
was  Besnier. 

One  hundred  and  twenty -five  years  after  that  a  prisoner  at  Vienna,  named 
Jacob  Dagen,  told  the  jailer  that  he  could  fly.  The  jailer  seemed  incredulous, 
and  so  Jake  constructed  a  pair  of  double  barrel  umbrellas,  that  worked  by 
hand,  and  fluttered  with  his  machine  into  the  air  fifty  feet.  He  came  down 
in  a  direct  line,  and  in  doing  so  ran  one  of  the  umbrellas  through  his  thorax. 
I  am  eflad  it  is  not  the  custom  now  to  wear  an  umbrella  in  the  thorax. 

In  England,  during  the  present  century,  several  inventors  produced  flying 
machines,  but  in  an  evil  hour  agreed  to  rise  on  them  themselves,  and  so  they 
died  from  their  injuries.  Some  came  down  on  top  of  the  machines,  while 
others  preceded  their  inventions  by  a  few  feet,  but  the  result  was  the  same. 
The  invention  of  flying  machines  has  always  been  handicapped,  as  it  were,  by 
this  fact.  Men  invent  a  flying  machine  and  then  try  to  ride  it  and  show  it  off, 
and  thus  they  are  prevented  by  death  from  perfecting  their  rolling  stock  and 
securing  their  right  of  way. 

In  18J:2,  Mr.  William  Henderson  got  out  a  "two-propeller"  machine,  and 
tried  to  incorporate  a  company  to  utilize  it  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  letters, 
running  errands,  driving  home  the  cows,   lighting  the  Northern  Lights  and 


208  REMARKS   BY    BILL   NYE. 

skimming  the  cream  off  the  Milky  Way,  but  it  didn't  seem  to  compete  very 
successfully  with  other  modes  of  travel,  and  so  Mr.  Henderson  wrapped  it  up 
in  an  old  tent  and  put  it  away  in  the  hay-mow. 

In  1853,  Mr.  J.  H.  Johnson  patented  a  balloon  and  parachute  dingus  which 
worked  on  the  principle  of  a  duck's  foot  in  the  mud.  I  use  scientific  terms 
because  I  am  unable  to  express  myself  in  the  common  language  of  the  vulgar 
hcrtl.  This  machine  had  a  tail  which,  under  great  excitement,  it  would  throw 
over  the  dash  board  as  it  bounded  through  the  air. 

Probably  the  biggest  thing  in  its  way  under  this  head  was  the  revival  of 
flying  under  the  presidency  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  the  society  being  called 
the  Aeronautical  Society  of  Great  Britain.  This  society  made  some  valuable 
calculations  and  experiments  in  the  interest  of  aerostation,  adding  much  to 
oui*  scientific  knowledge,  and  filling  London  wdth  cripples. 

In  1869,  Mr.  Joseph  T.  Kaufman  invented  and  turned  loose  upon  the  peo- 
ple of  Glasgow  an  infernal  machine  intended  to  soar  considerably  in  a  quiet 
kind  of  way  and  to  be  propelled  by  steam.  It  looked  like  the  bird  known  to 
ornithology  as  ^q  fi}jupitliecricl^,  and  had  an  air  brake,  patent  coupler,  buffer 
and  platform.  It  was  intended  to  hold  two  men  on  ice  and  a  rosewood  casket 
with  silver  handles.  It  was  mounted  on  wheels,  and,  as  it  did  not  seem  to  skim 
through  the  air  very  much,  the  people  of  Glasgow  hitched  a  clothes  line  to  it 
and  used  it  for  a  band  wagon. 

Eufus  Porter  invented  an  aerial  dewdad  ten  years  ago  in  Connecticut,  where 
so  many  crimes  have  been  committed  since  Mark  Twain  moved  there.  This 
was  called  the  "aeraport,"  and  looked  like  a  seed  wart  floating  through  space. 
This  engine  was  worked  by  springs  connected  with  propellers.  A  saloon  was 
suspended  beneath  it,  I  presume  on  the  principle  that  when  a  man  is  intoxi- 
cated he  weighs  a  pound  less.  This  machine  flew  around  the  rotunda  of  the 
Merchants'  Exchange,  in  New  York  City,  eleven  times,  like  a  hen  with  her 
head  cut  off,  but  has  not  been  on  the  wing  much  since  then. 

Other  flying  machines  have  been  invented,  but  the  air  is  not  peopled  with 
them  as  I  write.  Most  of  them  have  folded  their  pinions  and  sought  the 
seclusion  of  a  hen-house.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  very  soon  some  such  machine 
will  be  perfected,  whereby  a  man  may  flit  from  the  fifth  story  window  of  the 
Grand  Pacific  Hotel,  in  Chicago,  to  Montreal  before  breakfast,  leaving  nothing 
in  his  room  but  the  furniture  and  his  kind  regards. 


PLYING    MACHINES.  209 

Such  an  invention  would  be  liaileel  A\itli  niucli  joy,  and  tlie  sale  would  be 
&normous.  Now,  however,  the  matter  is  still  iji  its  infancy.  The  mechanical 
birds  invented  for  the  purpose  of  skimming  through  the  ether  blue,  have  not 
skum.  The  machines  were  built  with  high  hopes  and  a  throbbing  heart,  but 
the  aforesaid  ether  remains  unskum  as  we  go  to  press.  The  Milky  Way  is  in 
the  same  condition,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  fearless  skimmer.  Will  men 
ever  be  permitted  to  pierce  the  utmost  details  of  the  sky  and  ramble  around 
among  the  stars  with  a  gum  overcoat  on  ?  Sometimes  I  trow  he  will,  and  then 
again  I  ween  not. 


/^sl^ii)^  for  a  pass. 


i^HE  general  passenger  agent  of  a  prominent  road  leading  out  of  Chi- 
cago toward  the  south,  tells  me  that  he  is  getting  a  good  many  letters 
lately  asking  for  passes,  and  he  complains  bitterly  over  the  awkward 
^  and  unsatisfactory  style  of  the  correspondence.  Acting  on  this  sug- 
gestion and  though  a  little  late  in  the  day,  perhaps,  I  have  erected  the  follow- 
ing as  a  guide  to  those  who  contemplate  writing  under  similar  circumstances: 

Office  of  The  Evening  Squeal, 
January  14,  1886. 

Geneeal  Passenger  Agent,  Great  North  American  Gitthere  E.  R,  Chi- 
cago, III. 
Dear  Sir. — I  desire  to  know  by  return  mail  whether  or  no  you  would  be 

pleased  to  swap  transportation  for  kind  words.     I  am  the  editor  of    "The 

Squeal,"  published  at  this  place.  It  is  a  paper 
pure  in  tone,  world  wide  in  its  scope  and  irresist- 
ible in  the  broad  sweep  of  its  mighty  arm. 

I  desire  to  visit  the  great  exposition  at  New 
Orleans  this  winter,  and  would  be  willing  to  yield 
you  a  few  words  of  editorial  opinion,  set  in  long 
primer  type  next  to  pure  reading  matter,  and 
without  advertising  marks. 

My  object  in  thus  addressing  you  is  two-fold. 
I  have  always  wanted  to  do  your  road  a  kind  act 
that  would  put  it  on  its  feet,  but  I  have  never  be- 
fore had  the  opportunity.  This  winter  I  feel  just 
like  it,  and  am  not  willing,  but  anxious.  Another 
object,  though  trivial,  perhaps,  to  you,  is  vital  to 
me.     If  I  do  not  get  the  pass,  I  am  afraid  I 

shall  not  reach  there  till  the  exposition  is  over.     You  can  see  for  yourself  how 

important  it  is  that  I  should  have  transportation.     Day  after  day  the  president 

(210) 


the  press. 


ASKING   FOR   A   PASS. 


211 


will  come  on  to  the  grounds  and  ask  if  I  am  there.  Some  official  will  salute 
him  and  answer  sadly,  "No,  your  highness,  he  has  not  yet  arrived,  but  we  look 
for  him  soon.  He  is 
said  to  be  stuck  in  a 
mud  hole  somewhere 
in  Egypt."  Then  the 
exposition  will  drag 
on  again. 

You  may  make  the 
pass  read,  "For  self, 
Chicago  to  New  Or- 
leans and  return,"  and 
I  will  write  the  edito- 
rial, or  you  may  make 
it  read,  "Self  and 
wife"  and  I  will  let 
you  write  it  yourself. 
Nothing  is  too  good 
for  my  friends.  When 
a  man  does  me  a  kind 

act  or  shows  signs  of  affection,  I  just  allow  him  to  walk  all  over  me  and  make 
himself  perfectly  free  with  the  policy  of  my  paper. 

The  "Evening  Squeal"  has  been  heard  everywhere.  We  send  it  to  the 
four  winds  of  Heaven,  and  its  influence  is  felt  wherever  the  English  language 
is  respected.  And  yet,  if  you  want  to  belong  to  my  coterie  of  friends,  you  can 
make  yourself  just  as  free  with  its  editorial  columns  as  you  would  if  you 
owned  it. 

And  yet  "The  Squeal"  is  a  bad  one  to  stir  up.  I  shudder  to  think  what 
the  result  would  be  if  you  should  incur  the  hatred  of  "The  Squeal."  Let  us 
avoid  such  a  subject  or  the  possibility  of  such  a  calamity. 

"The  Squeal"  once  opposed  the  candidacy  of  a  certain  man  for  the  office 
of  school  district  clerk,  and  in  less  than  four  years  he  was  a  corpse!  Struck 
down  in  all  his  wanton  pride  by  one  of  the  popular  diseases  of  the  day. 

My  paper  at  one  time  became  the  foe  of  a  certain  road  which  tapped  the 
great  cranberry  vineyards  of  northern  Minnesota,  and  that  very  fall  the  cran-' 
berries  soured  on  the  vines! 


STUCK  IN  A  MUD  HOLE. 


212  llEMARKS    BY    BILL    NTE. 

I  might  go  on  for  pages  to  show  how  the  patliway  of  "The  Squeal"  has 
been  strewn  with  the  ruins  of  railroads,  all  prosperous  and  happy  till  they  an- 
tagonized us  and  sought  to  injure  us. 

I  believe  that  the  great  journals  and  trunk  lines  of  the  land  should  stand 
in  with  one  another.  If  you  have  the  support  and  moral  encouragement  of 
the  press  you  will  feel  perfectly  free  to  run  over  any  one  who  gets  on  your 
track.  Besides,  if  I  held  a  pass  over  your  road  I  should  feel  very  much 
reserved  about  printing  the  details  of  any  accident,  delay  or  w^ashout  along 
your  line.  I  aim  to  mould  public  opinion,  but  a  man  can  subsidize  and  cor- 
rupt me  if  he  goes  at  it  right.  I  write  this  to  kind  of  give  you  a  pointer  as 
to  how  you  can  go  to  work  to  do  so  if  you  see  fit. 

Should  you  wish  to  pervert  my  high  moral  notions  in  relation  to  railways, 
please  make  it  good  for  thirty  days,  as  it  may  take  me  a  week  or  so  to  mort- 
gage my  property  and  get  ready  to  go  in  good  style.  I  will  let  you  know  on 
what  day  I  will  be  in  New  Orleans,  so  that  you  caii  come  and  see  me  at  that 
time.  Should  you  have  difficulty  in  obtaining  an  audience  with  me,  owing  to 
the  throng  of  crowned  heads,  just  show  this  autograph  letter  to  the  doorkeeper, 
and  he  will  show  you  right  in.     Wipe  your  boots  before  entering. 

Yours  truly,  Daniel  Webster  Briggs, 

Editor  of  "The  Squeal." 

It  is  my  opinion  that  no  railroad  official,  however  disobliging,  would  hesi- 
tate a  moment  about  which  way  he  would  swing  after  reading  an  epistle  after 
this  pattern.  Few,  indeed,  are  the  men  who  would  be  impolitic  enough  to  in- 
cur the  displeasure  of  such  a  paper  as  I  have  artfully  represented  "The  Squeal" 
to  be. 


U/ord5  /Ibout  U/asl7i9(§t09. 

^HE  name  of  George  Washington  has  always  had  about  it  a  glamour 


_    that  made  him  appear  more  in  the  light  of  a  god  than  a  tall  man  with 

\J  large  feet  and  a  mouth  made  to  fit  an  old-fashioned,  full-dress  pump- 
'^  kin  pie.  I  use  the  word  glamour,  not  so  much  because  I  know  Avhat 
glamour  means,  but  because  I  have  never  used  it  before,  and  I  am  getting  a 
little  tired  of  the  short,  easy  words  I  have  been  using  so  long. 

George  Washington's  face  has  beamed  out  upon  us  for  many  years  now, 
on  postage  stamps  and  currency,  in  marble,  and  plaster,  and  bronze,  in  photo- 
graphs of  original  portraits,  paintings,  and  stereoscopic  views.  We  have  seen 
him  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  on  the  war-path  and  on  skates,  cussing  his 
troops  for  their  shiftlessness,  and  then  in  the  solitude  of  the  forest,  with  his 
snorting  war-horse  tied  to  a  tree,  engaged  in  prayer. 

We  have  seen  all  these  pictures  of  George,  till  we  are  led  to  believe  that 
he  did  not  breathe  our  air  or  eat  American  s^roceries.  But  Geore^e  Washing- 
ton  was  not  perfect.  I  say  this  after  a  long  and  careful  study  of  his  life,  and 
I  do  not  say  it  to  detract  the  very  smallest  iota  from  the  proud  history  of  the 
Father  of  his  Country,  I  say  it  simply  that  the  boys  of  America  who  want  to 
become  George  Washingtons  will  not  feel  so  timid  about  trying  it. 

When  I  say  that  George  Washington,  who  now  lies  so  calmly  in  the  lime- 
kiln at  Mount  Vernon,  could  reprimand  and  reproach  his  subordinates  at 
times,  in  a  way  to  make  the  ground  crack  open  and  break  up  the  ice  in  the 
Delaware  a  week  earlier  than  usual,  I  do  not  mention  it  in  order  to  show  the 
boys  of  our  day  that  profanity  will  make  them  resemble  George  Washington. 
That  Avas  one  of  his  weak  points,  and  no  doubt  he  was  ashamed  of  it,  as  he 
ought  to  have  been.  Some  poets  think  that  if  they  get  drunk,  and  stay 
drunk,  they  will  resemble  Edgar  A.  Poe  and  George  D.  Prentice.  There  are 
lawyers  who  play  poker  year  after  year,  and  get  regularly  skinned,  because 
they  have  heard  that  some  of  the  able  lawyers  of  the  past  century  used  to 
come  home  at  night  with  poker  chips  in  their  pockets. 

Whisky  will  not  make  a  poet,  nor  poker  a  great  pleader.     And  yet  I  have 

(213) 


214  EEMAEKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

seen  poets  wlio  relied  solely  on  the  potency  of  tlieir  breath,  and  lawyers  who 
knew  more  of  the  habits  of  a  bob-tail  flush  than  they  ever  did  of  the  statutes, 
in  such  case  made  and  provided. 

George  Washington  was  always  ready.  If  you  wanted  a  man  to  be  first 
in  war,  you  could  call  on  George.  If  you  desired  an  adult  who  \fould  be  first 
baseman  in  time  of  peace,  Mr.  Washington  could  be  telephoned  at  any  hour 
of  the  day  or  night.  If  you  needed  a  man  to  be  first  in  the  hearts  of  his 
countrymen,  George's  postof&ce  address  was  at  once  secured. 

Though  he  was  a  great  man,  he  was  once  a  poor  boy.  How  often  we  hear 
that  in  America!  It  is  the  place  where  it  is  a  positive  disadvantage  to  be 
born  wealthy.  And  yet,  sometimes  I  wish  they  had  experimented  a  little  that 
way  on  me.  I  do  not  ask  now  to  be  born  rich,  of  coiu'se,  because  it  is  too 
late ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that,  with  my  natural  good  sense  and  keen  insight 
into  human  nature,  I  could  have  struggled  along  under  the  burdens  and  cares 
of  wealth  with  great  success.  I  do  not  care  to  die  wealthy,  but  if  I  could 
have  been  born  wealthy,  it  seems  to  me  I  would  have  been  tickled  almost  to 
death. 

I  love  to  believe  that  true  greatness  is  not  accidental.  To  think  and  to 
say  that  greatness  is  a  lottery  is  pernicious.  Man  may  be  wrong  sometimes 
in  his  judgment  of  others,  both  individually  and  in  the  aggregate,  but  he  who 
gets  ready  to  be  a  great  man  will  surely  find  the  opportunity. 

Many  who  read  the  above  paragraph  will  wonder  who  I  got  to  write  it  for 
me,  but  they  will  never  find  out. 

In  conclusion,  let  me  say  that  George  Washington  was  successful  for  three 
reasons.  One  was  that  he  never  shook  the  confidence  of  his  friends.  Another 
was  that  he  had  a  strong  will  without  being  a  mule.  Some  people  cannot 
distinguish  between  being  firm  and  being  a  big  blue  jackass. 

Another  reason  why  Washington  is  loved  and  honored  to-day,  is  that  he 
died  before  we  had  a  chance  to  get  tired  of  him.  This  is  greatly  superior  to 
the  method  adopted  by  many  modern  statesmen,  who  wait  till  their  constitu- 
ency weary  of  them  and  then  reluctantly  and  tardily  die. 


5l7<?  Board  of  5rad(^. 

WENT  iuto  the  Cliicago  Board  of  Trade  awhile  ago  to  see  about  buying 
some  seed  wheat  for  sowii^g  on  my  farm  next  spring.  I  heard  that  I  coukl 
get  wheat  cheaper  there  than  anywhere  else,  so  I  went  over.  The  mem- 
"^  bers  of  the  Board  seemed  to  be  all  present.  They  Avere  on  the  upper  floor 
of  the  house,  about  three  hunch-ed  of  them,  I  judge,  engaged  in  conversation. 
All  of  them  were  conversing  when  I  entered,  with  the  exception  of  a  sad-look- 
ing man  who  had  just  been  squeezed  into  a  corner  and  injured,  I  was  told.  I 
told  him  that  arnica  was  as  good  as  anything  I  knew  of  for  that,  but  he  seemed 
irritated,  and  I  strode  majestically  away.  Probably  he  thought  I  had  no  busi- 
ness to  speak  to  him  without  an 
introduction,  but  I  never  stand  on 
ceremony  when  I  see  anyone  in 
pain. 

I  got  a  ticket  when  I  went  in, 
and  began  to  look  around  for  my 
wheat.  I  didnH  see  any  at  first. 
I  then  asked  one  of  the  conversa- 
tionalists how  wheat  was. 

"Oh,  wheat's  pretty  steady  just 
now,  'specially  October,  but  yes- 
terday we  thought  the  bottom  had 
dropped  out.     Perfect  panic  in  No. 
2,  red;  No.  2,  Chicago  Spring,  73|. 
Dull,  my  Christian  friend,  dull  is  no  name  for  it.     More  fellers  got  pinched 
yesterday  than  would  patch  purgatory  fifteen  miles.     What  you  doing,  buying 
or  selling?" 
"  Buying." 

"Better  let  me  sell  you  some  choice  Chicago  Spring  way  down.     Get  some 
man  you  know  on  the  Board  to  make  the  trade  for  you." 

(215) 


INDULGING   IN   CONVERSATION. 


216  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

"  "Well,  if  you've  got  sometliiiig  good  and  cheap,  and  that  you  know  will 
grow,  I\l  like  to  look  at  it,"  I  said. 

He  took  me  over  by  the  door  where  there  was  a  dishpan  full  of  wheat,  and 
asked  me  ht)w  that  struck  me.  I  said  it  looked  good  and  asked  him  how  much 
he  could  spare  of  it  at  .73.  He  said  he  had  50,000  bushels  that  he  wasn't 
using,  and  he  thought  he  could  get  me  another  50,000  of  a  friend,  if  I  wanted 
it.  I  said  no,  100,000  bushels  was  more  than  I  needed.  I  told  him  that  if  he 
would  let  me  have  that  dishpan  full,  one-half  cash  and  the  balance  in  install- 
ments, I  might  trade  with  him,  but  I  didn't  want  him  to  sell  me  his  last  bushel 
of  wheat  and  rob  himself. 

"Very  likely  you've  got  a  family,"  said  I,  "and  you  musn't  forget  that 
we've  ixot  a  lonof,  cold,  hard  winter  ahead  of  us.  Hanof  on  to  vour  wheat. 
Don't  let  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry  come  along  and  chisel  you  out  of  your  last 
kernel,  just  to  be  neighborly." 

I  remained  in  the  room  an  hour  and  a  half,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  sociability  there.  Three  hundred  men  all  talking  diagonally 
at  each  other  at  the  same  time,  reminds  me  of  a  tete-a-tete  I  once  had  with  a 
warm  personal  friend,  who  was  a  boiler-maker.  He  invited  me  to  come  around 
to  the  shop  and  visit  him.  He  said  we  could  crawl  down  through  the  manhole 
into  the  boiler  and  have  a  nice  visit  while  he  worked. 

I  remember  of  following  him  down  through  the  hole  into  the  boiler ;  then 
they  began  to  head  boiler  rivets,  and  I  knew  nothing  more  till  I  returned  to 
consciousness  the  next  day  to  find  myself  in  my  own  luxuriously-furnished 
apartments. 

The  family  physician  was  holding  my  hand.  My  wife  asked:  "  Is  he  con- 
scious yet,  do  you  think,  doctor?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "your  husband  begins  to  show  signs  of  life.  He  may 
live  for  many  years,  but  his  intellect  seems  to  have  been  mislaid  during  his 
illness.  Do  you  know  whether  the  cat  has  carried  anything  out  of  this  room 
lately?" 

Then  my  wife  said:  "Yes,  the  cat  did  get  something  out  of  this  room 
only  the  other  day  and  ate  it.     Poor  thing!" 


J\)e  Qpu/-Boy. 


^^M\  O  much  amusing  talk  is  being  made  recently  anent  the  blood-bedra^- cried 
<::^^\^  cow-boy  of  the  wild  West,  that  I  rise  as  one  man  to  say  a  few  thin^j-s, 
JU^^  not  in  a  dictatorial  style,  but  regarding  this  so-called  or  so  esteemed 
^  dry  land  pirate  who,  mounted  on  a  little  cow-pony  and  under  the  black 
flag,  sails  out  across  the  green  surge  of  the  plains  to  scatter  the  rocky  shores 
of  Time  with  the  bones  of  his  fellow-man. 

A  great  many  people  wonder  where  the  cow-boy,  with  his  abnormal  thirst 
for  blood,  originated.  Where  did  this  young  Jesse  James,  with  his  gory  rec- 
ord and  his  dauntless  eye,  come  fi'om?  Was  he  born  in  a  buffalo  wallow  at 
the  foot  of  some  rock-ribbed  mountain,  or  did  he  first  breathe  the  thin  air 
along  the  brink  of  an  alkali  pond,  where  the  horned  toad  and  the  centipede 
sang  him  to  sleep,  and  the  tarantula  tickled  him  under  the  chin  with  its  hairy 
legs  ? 

Careful  research  and  cold,  hard  statistics  show  that  the  cow-boy,  as  a  gen- 
eral thing,  was  born  in  an  unostentatious  manner  on  the  farm.  I  hate  to  sit 
down  on  a  beautiful  romance  and  squash  the  breath  out  of  a  romantic 
dream ;  but  the  cow-boy  who  gets  too  much  moist  damnation  in  his  system, 
and  rides  on  a  gallop  up  and  down  Main  street  shooting  out  the  lights  of  the 
beautiful  billiard  palaces,  would  be  just  as  unhappy  if  a  mouse  ran  up  his 
pantaloon-leg  as  you  would,  gentle  reader.  He  is  generally  a  youth  who 
thinks  he  will  not  earn  his  twenty-five  dollars  per  month  if  he  does  not  yell, 
and  whoop,  and  shoot,  and  scare  little  girls  into  St.  Vitus's  dance.  I've  known 
more  cow-boys  to  injure  themselves  with  their  own  revolvers  than  to  injure 
anyone  else.  This  is  evidently  because  they  are  more  familiar  with  the  hoe 
than  they  are  with  the  Smith  &  Wesson. 

One  night,  while  I  had  rooms  in  the  business  part  of  a  Territorial  city  in 
the  Rocky  Mountain  cattle  country,  I  was  awakened  at  about  one  o'clock  A.  M. 
by  the  most  blood-curdling  cry  of  "  Murder  "  I  ever  heard.  It  was  murder 
with  a  big  "  M."  Across  the  street,  in  the  bright  light  of  a  restaurant,  a  dozen 
cow-boys  with  broad  sombreros  and  flashing  silver  braid,  huge  leather  chaper- 

(31T) 


218 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


ajas,  Mexican  spurs  and  orange  silk  neckties,  and  with  flashing  revolvers,  were 
standing.  It  seemed  that  a  big,  red-faced  Captain  Kidd  of  the  band,  with  his 
skin  full  of  valley  tan,  had  marched  into  an  ice-cream  resort  with  a  self-cocker 
in  his  hand,  and  ordered  the  vanilla  coolness  for  the  gang.  There  being  a 
dozen  young  folks  at  the  place,  mostly  male  and  female,  from  a  neighboring 
hop,  indulging  in  cream,  the  proprietor,  a  meek  Norwegian  with  thin  white 
hair,  deemed  it  rude  and  outre  to  do  so.  He  said  something  to  that  effect, 
whereat  the  other  eleven  men  of  alcoholic  courage  let  off  a  yell  that  froze  the 

cream  into  a  solid  glacier, 


and  shook  two  kerosene 
lamps  out  of  their  sockets 
in  the  chandeliers. 

Thereupon,  the  little 
Y.  M.  C.  A.  Norwegian 
said: 

"Gentlemans,  I  kain't 
neffer  like  dot  squealinks 
and  dot  kaind  of  a  tings, 
and  you  fellers  mit  dot 
ledder  pantses  on  and  dot 
funny  glose  and  such  a 
tings  like  dot,  better  keep 
kaind  of  quiet,  or  I  shall 
call  up  the  policemen  mit 
my  delephone." 

Then  they  laughed  at 
him,  and  cried  yet  again 
with  a  loud  voice. 

This  annoyed  the  ice- 
HE  YELLED  MURDER.  cream    agriculturist,    and 

he  took  the  old  axe-handle  that  he  used  to  jam  the  ice  down  around  the  freezer 
with,  and  peeled  a  large  area  of  scalp  off  the  leader's  dome  of  thought,  and  it 
hung  down  over  his  eyes,  so  that  he  could  not  see  to  shoot  with  any  degree  of 
accuracy. 

After  he  had  yelled  "Murder!"  three  or  four  times,  he  fell  under  an  ice- 
cream table,  and  the  mild-eyed  Scandinavian  broke  a  silver-plated  castor  over 


THE   COW-EOY.  219 

the  organ  of  self-esteem,  and  poured  red  pepper,  and  salt,  and  vinegar,  and 
Halford  sauce  and  other  relishes,  on  the  place  where  the  scalp  was  loose. 

This  revived  the  brave  but  murderous  cow-gentleman,  and  he  beofofed  that 
he  might  be  allowed  to  go  away. 

The  gentle  Y.  M.  C.  A.  superintendent  of  the  ten -stamp  ice-cream  freezers 
then  took  the  revolvers  away  from  the  bold  buccaneer,  and  kicked  him  out 
through  a  show-case,  and  saluted  him  with  a  bouquet  of  July  oysters  that 
suffered  severely  from  malaria. 

All  cow-boys  are  not  sanguinary ;  but  out  of  twenty  you  will  generally  find 
one  who  is  brave  when  he  has  his  revolvers  with  him ;  but  when  he  forgot  and 
left  his  shooters  at  home  on  the  piano,  the  most  tropical  violet-eyed  dude  can 
climb  him  with  the  butt-end  of  a  sunflower,  and  beat  his  brains  out  and  spatter 
them  all  over  that  school  district. 

In  the  wild,  unfettered  "West,  beware  of  the  man  who  never  carries  arms, 
never  gets  drunk  and  always  minds  his  own  business.  He  don't  go  around 
shooting  out  the  gas,  or  intimidating  a  kindergarten  school ;  but  when  a  brave 
frontiersman,  with  a  revolver  in  each  boot  and  a  bowie  down  the  back  of  his 
neck,  insults  a  modest  young  lady,  and  needs  to  be  thrown  through  a  plate- 
glass  window  and  then  walked  over  by  the  populace,  call  on  the  silent  man 
who  dares  to  wear  a  clean  shirt  and  human  clothes. 


Stirripi^  I^eidi^Qts  at  a  pir<^. 

^  AST  night  I  was  awakened  by  the  cry  of  fire.  It  was  a  loud,  hoarse 
%r  I  E>  cry,  such  as  a  large,  adult  man  might  emit  from  his  window  on  the 
•J  1171  night  air.  The  town  was  not  large,  and  the  fire  department,  I  had  been 
"^^^     told,  was  not  so  effective  as  it  should  have  been. 

For  that  reason  I  arose  and  carefully  dressed  myself,  in  order  to  assist,  if 
possible.  I  carefully  lowered  myself  from  my  room,  by  means  of  a  staircase 
which  I  found  concealed  in  a  dark  and  mysterious  corner  of  the  passage. 

On  the  streets  all  was  confusion.  The  hoarse  cry  of  fire  had  been  taken 
up  by  others,  passed  around  from  one  to  another,  till  it  had  swollen  into  a  dull 
roar.      The  cry  of  fire  in  a  small  town  is  always  a  grand  sight. 

All  along  the  street  in  front  of  Mr.  Pendergast's  roller  rink  the  blanched 
faces  of  the  people  could  be  seen.  Men  were  hurrying  to  and  fro,  knocking 
the  bystanders  over  in  their  frantic  attempts  to  get  somewhere  else.  With 
great  foresight,  Mr.  Pendergast,  wdio  had  that  day  finished  painting  his  roller 
rink  a  dull-roan  color,  removed  from  the  building  the  large  card  which  bore 
the  legend:  ^ # 

:  FEESH    PAINT  !  '. 


* 


so  that  those  who  were  so  disposed  might  feel  perfectly  free  to  lean  up  against 
the  rink  and  watch  the  progress  of  the  flames. 

Anon  the  bright  glare  of  the  devouring  element  might  have  been  seen 
bursting  through  the  casement  of  Mr.  Cicero  Williams's  residence,  facing  on 
the  alley  west  of  Mr.  Pendergast's  rink.  Across  the  street  the  spectator 
whose  early  education  had  not  been  neglected  could  distinctly  read  the  sign  of 
our  esteemed  fellow-townsman,  Mr.  Alonzo  Burlingame,  which  was  lit  up  by 
the  red  glare  of  the  flames  so  that  the  letters  stood  out  plainly  as  follows: 

ALONZO   BUKLINGAME, 

Dealer  in  Soft  and  Haed  Coal,  Ice-Ceeam,  Wood,  Lime,  Cement,  Per- 
fumery, Nails,  Putty,  Spectacles,  and  Hoese  Eadish. 
Chocolate  Caeamels  and  Tae  Koofing. 

(220) 


stirring  incidents  at  a  fire.  221 

Gas  Fitting  and  Undertaking  in  all  Its  Branches. 

Hides,  Tallow,  and  Maple  Syrup. 

Fine  Gold  Jewelry,  Silverware,  and  Salt. 

Glue,  Codfish,  and  Gent's  Neckwear. 

Undertaker  and  Confectioner. 

I^^DisEASEs  OF  Horses  and  Children  a  Specialty. 

JNO.  WHITE,  Ptr. 
The  flames  spread  rapidly,  until  tliey  threatened  the  Palace  rink  of  our 
esteemed  fellow-townsman,  Mr.  Pendergast,  whose  genial  and  urbane  manner 
has  endeared  him  to  all. 

With  a  degree  of  forethought  worthy  of  a  better  cause,  Mr.  Leroy  W. 
Butts  suggested  the  propriety  of  calling  out  the  hook  and  ladder  company,  an 
organization  of  which  every  one  seemed  to  be  justly  proud.  Some  delay 
ensued  in  trying  to  find  the  janitor  of  Pioneer  Hook  and  Ladder  Company  No. 
I's  building,  but  at  last  he  was  secured,  and,  after  he  had  gone  home  for  the 
key,  Mr.  Butts  ran  swiftly  down  the  street  to  awaken  the  foreman,  but,  after  he 
had  dressed  himself  and  inquired  anxiously  about  the  fire,  he  said  that  he  was 
not  foreman  of  the  company  since  the  2d  of  April. 

Meantime  the  firefiend  continued  to  rise  up  ever  and  anon  on  his  hind  feet 
and  lick  up  salt-barrel  after  salt-barrel  in  close  proximity  to  the  Palace  rink, 
owned  by  our  esteemed  fellow-citizen,  Mr.  Pendergast.  Twice  Mr.  Pender- 
gast was  seen  to  shudder,  after  which  he  went  home  and  filled  out  a  blank 
which  he  forwarded  to  the  insurance  company. 

Just  as  the  town  seemed  doomed,  the  hook  and  ladder  company  came  rush- 
ing down  the  street  with  their  navy-blue  hook  and  ladder  truck.  It  is  indeed 
a  beauty,  being  one  of  the  Excelsior  noiseless  hook  and  ladder  factory's  best 
instruments,  with  tall  red  pails  and  rich  blue  ladders. 

Some  delay  ensued,  as  several  of  the  ofiicers  claimed  that  under  a  new  by- 
law passed  in  January  they  were  permitted  to  ride  on  the  truck  to  fires.  This 
having  been  objected  to  by  a  gentleman  who  had  lived  in  Chicago  several 
years,  a  copy  of  the  by-laws  was  sent  for  and  the  dispute  summarily  settled. 
The  company  now  donned  its  rubber  overcoats  with  great  coolness  and  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  deftly  twist  the  tail  of  the  firefiend. 

It  was  a  thrilling  sight  as  James  McDonald,  a  brother  of  Terrance  Mc- 
Donald, Xrombone,  Ind.,  rapidly  ascended  one  of  the  ladders  in  the  full  glare 
of  the  devouring  element  and  fell  off  again. 


222  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Then  a  wild  cheer  arose  to  a  height  of  about  nine  feet,  and  all  again 
became  confused. 

It  was  now  past  11  o'clock,  and  several  of  the  members  of  the  hook  and 
ladder  company  who  had  to  get  up  early  the  next  day  in  order  to  catch  a  train 
excused  themselves  and  went  home  to  seek  much-needed  rest. 

Suddenly  it  was  discovered  that  the  brick  livery  stable  of  Mr.  Abraham 
McMichaels,  a  nephew  of  our  worthy  assessor,  was  getting  hot.  Leaving  the 
Palace  rink  to  its  fate,  the  hook  and  ladder  company  directed  its  attention  to 
the  brick  barn,  and,  after  numerous  attempts,  at  last  succeeded  in  getting  its 
laro'e  iron  prong  fastened  on  the  second  story  window-sill,  which  was  pulled 
out.  The  hook  was  again  inserted,  but  not  so  effectively,  bringing  down  at 
this  time  an  armful  of  hay  and  part  of  an  old  horse  blanket.  Another  cour- 
ageous jab  was  made  with  the  iron  hook,  which  succeeded  in  pulling  out  about 
5  cents  worth  of  brick.  This  was  greeted  by  a  wild  burst  of  applause  from  the 
bystanders,  during  which  the  hook  and  ladder  company  fell  over  each  other 
and  added  to  the  horror  of  the  scene  by  a  mad  burst  of  pale-blue  profanity. 
It  was  not  long  before  the  stable  was  licked  up  by  the  firefiend,  and  the 
hook  and  ladder  company  directed  its  attention  toward  the  undertaking,  em- 
balming, and  ice-cream  parlors  of  our  highly  esteemed  fellow-townsman,  Mr. 
A.  Burlingame.  The  company  succeeded  in  pulling  two  stone  window-sills 
out  of  this  building  before  it  burned.  Both  times  they  were  encored  by  the 
large  and  aristocratic  audience. 

Mr.  Burlingame  at  once  recognized  the  efforts  of  the  heroic  firemen  by 
tapping  a  keg  of  beer,  which  he  distributed  among  them  at  25  cents  per  glass. 
This  morning  a  space  forty-seven  feet  wide,  where  but  yesterday  all  was 
joy  and  prosperity  and  beauty,  is  covered  over  with  blackened  ruins.  Mr. 
Pendergast  is  overcome  by  grief  over  the  loss  of  his  rink,  but  assures  us  that 
if  he  is  successful  in  getting  the  full  amount  of  his  insurance  he  will  take 
the  money  and  build  two  rinks,  either  one  of  which  will  be  far  more  impos- 
ing than  the  one  destroyed  last  evening. 

A  movement  is  on  foot  to  give  a  literary  and  musical  entertainment  at 
Burley's  hall,  to  raise  funds  for  the  purchase  of  new  uniforms  for  the  "fire 
laddies,"  at  which  Mrs.  Butts  has  consented  to  sing  "When  the  Kobins  Nest 
Ao-ain,"  and  Miss  Mertie  Stout  will  recite  "'Ostler  Jo,"  a  selection  which  never 
fails  to  offend  the  best  people  everywhere.  Twenty-five  cents  for  each  offense. 
l^p^Let  there  be  a  full  house. 


Jt7<?  Cittl<^  Bar(^foot  Boy. 

^•WlTH  the   moist  and  misty  spring,  with  the  pink  and  white  colum- 


m- 


WIMuvif  ^"^®  °^  ^^^^  wildwood  and  the  breath  of  the  cellar  and  the 
y  11%  II J  cense  of  burning  overshoes  in  the  back  yard,  comes  the  little  bare  - 
1.  ~  «#^^  J  foot  boy  with  fawn  colored  hair  and  a  droop  in  his  pantaloons. 
Poverty  is  not  the  grand  difficulty  with  the  little  barefoot  boy  of  spring.  It  is 
the  wild,  ungovernable  desire  to  wiggle  his  toes  in  the  ambient  air,  and  to 
soothe  his  parboiled  heels  in  the  yielding  mud. 

I  see '  him  now  in  my  mind's  eye,  making  his  annual  appearance  like  a 
rheumatic  housefly,  stepping  high  like  a  blind  horse.  He  has  just  left  his 
shoes  in  the  woodshed  and  stepped  out  on  the  piazza  to  proclaim  that  violet- 
eyed  spring  is  here.  All  over  the  land  the  gladiolus  bulb  and  the  ice  man 
begin  to  swell.  The  south  wind  and  the  new-born  calf  at  the  barn  begin  to 
sigh.  The  oak  tree  and  the  dude  begin  to  put  on  their  spring  apparel.  All 
nature  is  gay.  The  thrush  is  warbling  in  the  asparagus  orchard,  and  the 
prima  donna  does  her  throat  up  in  a  red  flannel  rag  to  wait  for  another  season. 

All  these  things  indicate  spring,  but  they  are  not  so  certain  and  unfailing 
as  the  little  barefoot  boy  whose  white  feet  are  thrust  into  the  face  of  the  ap- 
proaching season.  Five  months  from  now  those  little  dimpled  feet,  noAv  so 
bleached  and  tender,  will  look  like  a  mudturtle's  back  and  the  superior  and 
leading  toe  will  have  a  bandage  around  it,  tied  with  a  piece  of  thread. 

Who  would  believe  that  the  budding  hoodlum  before  us,  with  the  yellow 
chilblain  on  his  heel  and  the  early  spring  toad  in  his  pocket,  which  he  will 
present  to  the  timid  teacher  as  a  testimonial  of  his  regard  this  afternoon,  may 
be  the  Moses  who  will  lead  the  American  people  forty  years  hence  into  the 
glorious  sunlight  of  a  promised  land. 

He  may  possibly  do  it,  but  he  doesn't  look  like  it  now. 

Yet  Jo'lin  A.  Logan  and  Samuel  J.  Tilden  were  once  barefooted  boys,  with 
a  suspender  apiece.     It  doesn't  seem  possible,  does  it? 

How  can  we  imagine  at  this  time  Julius  Caesar  and  Hannibal  Hamlin  and 
Lucretia  Borgia  at  some  time  or  other  stubbed  their  bare  toes  against  a  root 

<223) 


224 


REMAIIKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


and  filled  tlio  horizon  Avitli  pianissimo  wails.  The  barefoot  boy  of  spring  will 
also  proceed  to  bathe  in  the  river  as  soon  as  the  ice  and  the  policeman  are  out. 
He  will  choose  a  point  on  the  boulevard,  where  he  can  get  a  good  view  of  those 
who  pass,  and  in  company  with  eleven  other  little  barefoot  boys,  he  will  clothe 
himself  in  an  Adam  vest,  a  pair  of  bare-skin  pantaloons,  a  Greek  slave  over- 
coat and  a  yard  of  sunlight,  and  gaze  earnestly  at  those  who  go  by  on  the 
other  side.  Up  and  down  the  bank,  pasting  each  other  with  mud,  the  little 
barefoot  boys  of  spring  chase  each  other,  with  their  vertebrae  sticking  into 


A  TESTIMONIAL   OF   REGARD. 

the  warm  and  sleepy  air,  while  down  in  the  marsh,  where  the  cat-tails  and  the 
broad  flao-s  and  the  peach  can  and  the  deceased  horse  grow,  tlie  bull-frog  is 
twittering  to  his  mate. 

Later  on  the  hoarse  voice  of  a  rude  parental  snorter  is  heard  approaching, 
and  twelve  slim  Cupids  with  sunburned  backs  are  inserted  into  twelve  little 
cotton  shirts  and  twelve  despondent  pairs  of  pantaloons  hang  at  half-mast  to 
twelve  home-made  suspenders,  and  as  the  gloaming  gathers  about  the  old 
home,  twelve  boys  back  up  against  the  ice-house  to  cool  off,  while  the  enraged 
parent  hangs  up  the  buggy  whip  in  the  old  place. 


pauor<^d  a  j^i^l?<?r  pip*^. 

^■' f^ILL.  TAYLOE,  tlie  son  of  tlae  present  American  Consul  at  Mar- 
■^il  WM vf/lA^  ^®i^^®S'  ^v^s  ^  good  deal  like  other  boys  while  at  school  in  his  old 
\j)  i%  M  home,  at  Hudson,  Wis.  One  day  he  called  his  father  into  the 
It#^J    library,  and  said: 

"Pa,  I  don't  like  to  tell  you,  but  the  teacher  and  I  have  had  trouble." 

"  What's  the  matter  now?" 

"Well,  I  cut  one  of  the  desks  a  little  with  my  knife,  and  the  teacher  says  I've 
got  to  pay  a  dollar  or  take  a  lickin'." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  take  the  licking  and  say  nothing  more  about  it?  I 
can  stand  considerable  physical  pain,  so  long  as  it  visits  our  family  in  that 
form.  Of  course,  it  is  not  pleasant  to  be  flogged,  but  you  have  broken  a  rule 
of  the  school,  and  I  guess  you'll  have  to  stand  it.  I  presume  that  the  teacher 
will  in  wrath  remember  mercy,  and  avoid  disabling  you  so  that  you  can't  get 
your  coat  on  any  more." 

"But,  pa,  I  feel  mighty  bad  about  it  already,  and  if  you'd  pay  my  fine  I'd 
never  do  it  again.  I  know  a  good  deal  more  about  it  now,  and  I  will  never  do 
it  again.  A  dollar  ain't  much  to  you,  pa,  but  it's  a  heap  to  a  boy  that  hasn't 
got  a  cent.  If  I  could  make  a  dollar  as  easy  as  you  can,  pa,  I'd  never  let  my 
little  boy  get  flogged  that  way  just  to  save  a  dollar.  If  I  had  a  little  feller 
that  got  licked  bekuz  I  didn't  put  up  for  him,  I'd  hate  the  sight  of  money 
always.  I'd  feel  as  if  every  dollar  in  my  pocket  had  been  taken  out  of  my  little 
kid's  back." 

"Well,  now,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  give  you  a  dollar  to  save  you 
from  punishment  this  time,  but  if  anything  of  this  kind  ever  occurs  again  I'll 
hold  you  while  the  teacher  licks  you,  and  then  I'll  get  the  teacher  to  hold  you 
while  I  lick  you.  That's  the  way  I  feel  about  that.  If  you  want  to  go  around 
whittling  up  our  educational  institutions  you  can  do  so ;  but  you  will  have  to 
purchase  them  afterward  yourself.  I  don't  propose  to  buy  any  more  damaged 
school  furniture.  You  probably  grasp  my  meaning,  do  you  not  ?  I  send  you 
to  school  to  acq^uire  an  education,  not  to  acquire  liabilities,  so  that  you  can 

(223) 


22G  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

come  around  and  make  an  assessment  on  me.  I  feel  a  great  interest  in  you, 
Willie,  but  I  do  not  feel  as  though  it  should  bo  an  assessable  interest.  I  want 
to  go  on,  of  course,  and  improve  the  property,  but  when  I  pay  my  dues  on  it  I 
want  to  know  that  it  goes  toward  development  work.  I  don't  want  my  assess- 
ments to  go  toward  the  purchase  of  a  school-desk  with  American  hieroglyphics 
carved  on  it. 

"I  hope  that  you  will  bear  this  in  your  mind,  my  son,  and  beware.  It  will 
be  greatly  to  your  interest  to  beware.  If  I  were  in  your  place  I  would  put  in 
a  large  portion  of  my  time  in  the  bcAvare  business." 

The  boy  took  the  dollar  and  went  thoughtfully  away  to  school,  and  no  more 
was  ever  said  about  the  matter  until  Mr,  Taylor  learned  casually  several  months 
later  that  the  Spartan  youth  had  received  the  walloping  and  filed  away  the 
dollar  for  future  reference.  The  boy  was  afterward  heard  to  say  that  he  favored 
a  much  heavier  fine  in  cases  of  that  kind.  One  whipping  was  sufiicient,  he  said, 
but  he  favored  a  fine  of  $b.  It  ought  to  be  severe  enough  to  make  it  an 
object. 


66 


I  Spy." 


^^  E AE  reader,  do  you  remember  the  boy  of  your  school  who  did  the  heavy 
falling  through  the  ice  and  was  always  about  to  break  his  neck,  but 
managed  to  live  through  it  all  ?  Do  you  call  to  mind  the  youth  who 
^'-^*'  never  allowed  anybody  else  to  fall  out  of  a  tree  and  break  his  collar 
bone  when  he  could  attend  to  it  himself  ?  Every  school  has  to  secure  the  serv- 
ices of  such  a  boy  before  it  can  succeed,  and  so  our  school  had  one.  When 
I  entered  the  school  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  board  had  neglected  to  provide 
itself  with  a  boy  whose  duty  it  was  to  nearly  kill  himself  every  few  days  in 
ord«r  to  keep  up  the  interest,  so  I  applied 
for  the  position.  I  secured  it  without 
any  trouble  whatever.  The  board  un- 
derstood at  once  from  my  bearing  that  I 
would  succeed.  And  I  did  not  betray 
the  trust  they  had  reposed  in  me. 

Before  the  first  term  was  over  I  had 
tried  to  climb  two  trees  at  once  and  been 
carried  home  on  a  stretcher ;  been  pulled 
out  of  the  river  with  my  lungs  full  of 
water,  and  artificial  respiration  resorted 
to;  been  jerked  around  over  the  north 
half  of  the  county  by  a  fractious  horse 
whose  halter  I  had  tied  to  my  leg,  and 
which  leg  is  now  three  inches  longer 
than  the  other;  together  with  various 
other  little  early  eccentricities  which  I 
cannot  at  this  moment  call  to  mind.  My  parents  at  last  got  so  that  along 
about  2  o'clock  P.  M.  they  would  look  anxiously  out  of  the  window  and  say, 
"Isn't  it  about  time  for  the  boys  to  get  here  with  William's  remains?  They 
generally  get  here  before  2  o'clock." 

One  day  five  or  six  of  us  Avere  playing  "I  spy"  around  our  barn.  Every- 
body knows  how  to  play  "I  spy."  One  shuts  his  eyes  and  counts  100,  for  in- 
stance, while  the  others  hide.     Then  he  must  find  the  rest  and  say  "I  spy" 

«37J 


BEINGING  IN  THE  BEMAINS. 


228  REMABKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

so-and-so  and  touch  the  "goal"  before  they  do.  If  anybody  beats  him  to  the 
goal  the  victim  has  to  "blind"  over  again. 

Well,  I  knew  the  ground  pretty  well,  and  could  drop  twenty  feet  out  of 
the  barn  window  and  strike  on  a  pile  of  straw  so  as  to  land  near  the  goal, 
touch  it,  and  let  the  crowd  in  free  without  getting  found  out.  I  did  this  sev- 
eral times  and  got  the  blinder,  James  Bang,  pretty  mad.  After  a  boy  has 
counted  500  or  GOO,  and  worked  hard  to  gather  in  the  crowd,  only  to  get  jeered 
and  laughed  at  by  the  boys,  he  loses  his  temper.  It  was  so  with  James  Cicero 
Bang.  I  knew  that  he  almost  hated  me,  and  yet  I  went  on.  Finally,  in  the 
fifth  ballot,  I  saw  a  good  chance  to  slide  down  and  let  the  crowd  in  again  as  I 
had  done  on  former  occasions.  I  slipped  out  of  the  window  and  down  the 
side  of  the  barn  about  two  feet,  when  I  was  detained  unavoidably.  There  was 
a  "batten"  on  the  barn  that  was  loose  at  the  upper  end.  I  think  I  was  wear- 
ing my  father's  vest  on  that  day,  as  he  was  away  from  home,  and  I  frequently 
wore  his  clothes  when  he  was  absent.  Anyhow  the  vest  was  too  large,  and 
when  I  slid  down  that  loose  board  ran  up  between  the  vest  and  my  person  in 
such  a  way  as  to  suspend  me  about  eighteen  feet  fi*om  the  ground,  in  a  promi- 
nent but  very  uncomfortable  position. 

I  remember  it  quite  distinctly.  James  C.  Bang  came  around  where  he  could 
see  me.  He  said:  "I  spy  Billy  Nye  and  touch  the  goal  before  him."  No  one 
came  to  remove  the  barn.  No  one  came  to  sympathize  with  me  in  my  great  sorrow 
and  isolation.  Every  little  while  James  C.  Bang  would  come  around  the  corner 
and  say :  "  Oh,  I  see  ye.  You  needn't  think  you're  out  of  sight  up  there.  I  can 
see  you  real  plain.     You  better  come  down  and  blind.     I  can  see  ye  up  there ! " 

I  tried  to  unbotton  my  vest  and  get  down  there  and  lick  James,  but  it  was 
of  no  use.  It  was  a  very  trying  time.  I  can  remember  how  I  tried  to  kick 
myself  loose,  but  failed.  Sometimes  I  would  kick  the  barn  and  sometimes  I 
would  kick  a  large  hole  in  the  horizon.  Finally  I  was  rescued  by  a  neighbor 
who  said  he  didn't  want  to  see  a  good  barn  kicked  into  chaos  just  to  save  a 
long-legged  boy  that  wasn't  worth  over  six  bits. 

It  affords  me  great  pleasure  to  add  that  while  I  am  looked  up  to  and  madly 
loved  by  every  one  that  does  not  know  me,  Jas.  C.  Bang  is  brevet  president  of 
a  fractured  bank,  taking  a  lonely  bridal  tour  by  himself  in  Europe  and  waiting 
for  the  depositors  to  die  of  old  age. 

The  mills  of  the  gods  grind  slowly,  but  they  most  generally  get  there  with 
both  feet.      (Adapted  from  the  French  by  permission.) 


fT\3r\{  f\T){0T)y. 

4»;^AKCUS  ANTONIUS,  commonly  called  Mark  Antony,  was  a  cele- 
All  <i\\'l\w  ^1'^^^^^^  ^oi^^ii  g^^^^*^!  S'l^tl  successful  politician,  who  was  born  in 
zjlj^^W  83  B.  C.  His  grandfather,  on  his  mother's  side,  was  L.  Julius 
^cri^'^r-  (^gggg^j,^  g^j^fl  j^  jg  tliQught  that  to  Mark's  sagacity  in  his  selection  of 
a  mother,  much  of  his  subsequent  success  was  due. 

Young  Antony  was  rather  gay  and  festive  during  his  early  years,  and  led 
a  life  that  in  any  city  but  Rome  would  have  occasioned  talk.  He  got  into  a 
great  many  youthful  scrapes,  and  nothing  seemed  to  please  him  better  than  to 
repeatedly  bring  his  father's  gray  hairs  down  in  sorrow  to  the  grave.  De- 
bauchery was  a  matter  to  which  he  gave  much  thought,  and  many  a  time  he 
was  found  consuming  the  midnight  oil  while  pursuing  his  studies  in  this  line. 

At  that  time  Rome  was  well  provided  for  in  the  debauchery  department, 
and  Mr.  Antony  became  a  thorough  student  of  the  entire  curriculum. 

About  57  B.  C.  he  obtained  command  of  the  cavalry  of  Gambinino  in  Syria 
and  Egypt.  He  also  acted  as  legate  for  Caesar  in  Gaul  about  52  B.  C,  as 
nearly  as  I  can  recall  the  year.  I  do  not  know  exactly  what  a  legate  is,  but  it 
had  something  to  do  with  the  Roman  ballet,  I  understand,  and  commanded  a 
good  salary. 

He  was  also  elected,  in  50,  B.  C,  as  Argus  and  Tribune — acting  as  Tribune 
at  night  and  Argus  during  the  day  time,  I  presume,  or  he  may  have  been 
elected  Tribune  and  ex-officio  Argus.  He  was  more  successful  as  Tribune  than 
he  was  in  the  Argus  business. 

Early  in  49,  B.  C,  he  fled  to  Caesar's  camp,  and  the  following  year  was 
appointed  commander-in-chief.  He  commanded  the  left  wing  of  the  army  at 
the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  and  years  afterward  used  to  be  passionately  fond  of 
describing  it  and  explaining  how  he  saved  the  day,  and  how  everybody  else 
was  surprised  but  him,  and  how  he  was  awakened  by  hearing  one  of  the 
enemy's  troops,  across  the  river,  stealthily  pulling  on  his  pantaloons. 

Antony  married  Fulvia,  the  widow  of  a  successful  demagogue  named  P. 
Clodius.  This  marriage  could  hardly  be  regarded  as  a  success.  ItAvould  have 
been  better  for  the  widow  if  she  had  remained  Mrs.  P.  Clodius,  for  Mark  An- 
tony was  one  of  those  old-fashioned  Romans  who  favored  the  utmost  latitude 

(229) 


230  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

among  men,  but  lieartily  enjoyed  seeing  an  unfaithful  woman  burned  at  tlie 
stake.  In  those  days  the  Roman  girl  had  nothing  to  do  but  live  a  pure  and 
blameless  life,  so  that  she  could  marry  a  shattered  Roman  rake  who  had  suc- 
ceeded in  shunning  a  blameless  life  himself,  and  at  last,  when  he  was  sick  of 
all  kinds  of  depravity  and  needed  a  good,  careful  wife  to  take  care  of  him, 
would  come  with  his  dappled,  sin-sick  soul  and  shattered  constitution,  and  his 
vast  acquisitions  of  debts,  and  ask  to  be  loved  by  a  noble  young  woman.  Noth- 
ing pleased  a  blase  Roman  so  well  as  to  have  a  young  and  beautiful  girl,  with 
eyes  like  liquid  night,  to  take  the  job  of  reforming  him.  I  frequently  get  up 
in  the  night  to  congratulate  myself  that  I  was  not  born,  2,000  years  ago,  a 
Roman  girl. 

The  historian  continues  to  say,  that  though  Mr.  Antony  continued  to  live 
a  life  of  licentious  lawlessness,  that  occasioned  talk  even  in  Rome,  he  was  sin- 
gularly successful  in  politics. 

He  was  very  successful  at  funerals,  also,  and  his  off-hand  obituary  works 
were  sought  for  far  and  wide.  His  impromptu  remarks  at  the  grave  of  Caesar, 
as  afterward  reported  by  Mr.  Shakespeare,  from  memory,  attracted  general 
notice  and  made  the  funeral  a  highly  enjoyable  affair.  After  this  no  assassi- 
nation could  be  regarded  as  a  success,  unless  Mark  Antony  could  be  secured  to 
come  and  deliver  his  justly  celebrated  eulogy. 

About  43,  B.  C,  Antony,  Octavius  and  Lepidus  formed  a  co-partnership 
under  the  firm  name  and  style  of  Antony,  Octavius  &  Co.,  for  the  purpose  of 
doing  a  general,  all-round  triumvirate  business  and  dealing  in  Roman  republi- 
can pelts.  The  firm  succeeded  in  making  republicanism  extremely  odious,  and 
for  years  a  republican  hardly  dared  to  go  out  after  dark  to  feed  the  horse,  lest 
he  be  jumped  on  by  a  myrmidon  and  assassinated.  It  was  about  this  time  that 
Cicero  had  a  misunderstanding  with  Mark's  myrmidons  and  went  home  packed 
in  ice. 

Mark  Antony,  when  the  firm  of  Antony,  Octavius  &  Co.  settled  up  its  af- 
fairs, received  as  his  share  the  Asiatic  provinces  and  Egypt.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  he  met  Cleopatra  at  an  Egyptian  sociable  and  fell  in  love  with  her. 
Falling  in  love  with  fair  women  and  speaking  pieces  over  new-made  graves 
seemed  to  be  Mark's  normal  condition.  He  got  into  a  quarrel  with  Octavius 
and  settled  it  by  marrying  Octavia,  Octavius'  sister,  but  this  was  not  a  love 
match,  for  he  at  once  returned  to  Cleopatra,  the  author  of  Cleopatra's  needle 
and  other  works. 


MARK   ANTONY.  231 

This  love  for  Cleopatra  was  no  doubt  the  cause  of  his  final  overthrow,  for 
he  frequently  went  over  to  see  her  when  he  should  have  been  at  home  killing 
invaders.  He  ceased  to  care  about  slashing  around  in  carnage,  and  preferred 
to  turn  Cleopatra's  music  for  her  while  she  knocked  out  the  teeth  of  lier  old 
upright  piano  and  sang  to  him  in  a  low,  passionate,  vox  humana  tone. 

So,  at  last,  the  great  cemetery  declaimer  and  long  distance  assassin,  Mark 
Antony,  was  driven  out  of  his  vast  dominions  after  a  big  naval  defeat  at  Ac- 
tium,  in  September,  31  B.  C,  retreated  to  Alexandria,  called  for  more  rein- 
forcements and  didn't  get  them.  Deserted  by  his  fleet,  and  reduced  to  a  hand- 
me-down  suit  of  clothes  and  a  two-year-old  plug  hat,  he  wrote  a  poetic  wail 
addressed  to  Cleopatra  and  sent  it  to  the  Alexandria  papers ;  then,  closing  the 
door  and  hanging  up  his  pantaloons  on  a  nail  so  as  to  reduce  the  sag  in  the 
knees,  he  blew  out  the  gas  and  climbed  over  the  high  board  fence  which  stands 
forever  between  the  sombre  present  and  the  dark  blue,  mysterious  ultimatum. 


/T\ar)  Ouerbored. 


PEAKING  about  prohibition,"  said  Misery  Brown  one 
day,  while  -we  sat  lying  on  the  damp  of  the  Blue  Tail 
Fhj,  "I  am  prone  to  allow  that  the  more  you  prohibit, 
the  more  you — all  at  once — discover  that  you  have  more 
or  less  failed  to  prohibit. 

"Now,  you  can  win  a  man  over  to  your  way  of  think- 
ing, sometimes,  but  you  musn't  do  it  with  the  butt-end 
of  a  telegraph-pole.      You  might  convert  him  that  way, 
perhaps,  but  the  mental  shock  and  phrenological  con- 
cussion of  the  argument  might  be  disastrous  to  the  convert  himself. 

"  A  man  once  said  to  me  that  rum  w^as  the  devil's  drink,  that  Satan's  home 
was  filled  with  the  odor  of  hot  rum,  that  perdition  was  soaked  with  spiced  rum 
and  rum  punch.  'You  wot  not,'  said  he,  'the  ruin  rum  has  rot.  Why, 
Misery  Brown,'  said  he,  'rum  is  my  hefe  noir.''  I  said  I  didn't  care  what  he 
used  it  for,  he'd  always  find  it  very  warming  to  the  system.  I  told  him  he 
could  use  it  for  a  hot  bete  noir,  or  a  hlanc  mange,  or  any  of  those  fancy  drinks ; 
I  didn't  care. 

"  But  the  worst  time  I  ever  had  grappling  with  the  great  enemy,  I  reckon, 
was  in  the  later  years  of  the  war,  when  I  pretty  near  squashed  the  rebellion. 
Grim-visaged  war  had  worn  me  down  pretty  well.  I  played  the  big  tuba  in 
the  regimental  band,  and  I  began  to  sigh  for  peace. 

"We  had  been  on  the  march  all  summer,  it  seemed  to  me.  We'd  travel 
through  dust  ankle-deep  all  day  that  was  just  like  ashes,  and  halt  in  the  red- 
hot  sun  five  minutes  to  make  coffee.  We'd  make  our  coffee  in  five  minutes,' 
and  sometimes  we'd  make  it  in  the  middle  of  the  road;  but  that's  neither  here 
nor  there. 

"We  finally  found  out  that  we  would  make  a  stand  in  a  certain  town,  and 
that  the  Q.  M.  had  two  barrels  of  old  and  reliable  whisky  in  store.  We  also 
found  out  that  we  couldn't  get  any  for  medical  purposes  nor  anything  else. 

(232) 


MAN    OVEEBORED.  233 

All  we  could  do  was  to  suffer  on  and  wait  till  the  war  closed.  I  didn't  feel 
like  postponing  the  thing  myself,  so  I  began  to  investigate.  The  great  foe  of 
humanity  was  stored  in  a  tobacco-house,  and  the  Q.  M.  slept  three  nights  be- 
tween the  barrels.  The  chances  for  a  debauch  looked  peaked  and  slim  in  the 
extreme.  However,  there  was  a  basement  below,  and  I  got  in  there  one  night 
with  a  half-inch  auger,  and  two  wash-tubs.  Later  on  there  was  a  sound  of 
revelry  by  night.  There  was  considerable  'on  with  the  dance,  let  joy  be  uu- 
confined.' 

"The  next  day  there  was  a  spongy  appearance  to  the  top  of  the  head, 
which  seemed  to  be  confined  to  our  regiment,  as  a  result  of  the  sudden  giving 
way,  as  it  were,  of  prohibitory  restrictions.  It  was  a  very  disagreeable  day,  I 
remember.  All  nature  seemed  clothed  in  gloom,  and  Pv.  E.  Morse,  P.  D.  Q., 
seemed  to  be  in  charge  of  the  proceedings.     Redeyed  Regret  was  everywhere. 

"  "We  then  proceeded  to  yearn  for  the  other  barrel  of  woe,  that  we  might 
pile  up  some  more  regret,  and  have  enough  misery  to  last  us  through  the  bal- 
ance of  the  campaign.  We  acted  on  this  suggestion,  and,  with  a  firm  resolve 
and  the  same  half -inch  auger,  we  stole  once  more  into  the  basement  of  the  to- 
bacco-house. • 

"I  bored  nineteen  consecutive  holes  in  the  atmosphere,  and  then  an  inti- 
mate friend  of  mine  bored  twenty-seven  distinct  holes  in  the  floor,  only  to  bore 
through  the  bosom  of  the  night.  Eleven  of  us  spent  the  most  of  the  night 
boring  into  the  floor,  and  at  three  o'clock  A.  M.  it  looked  like  a  hammock,  it 
was  so  full  of  holes.  The  quartermaster  slept  on  through  it  all.  He  slept  in 
a  very  audible  tone  of  voice,  and  every  now  and  then  we  could  hear  him  slum- 
bering on. 

"At  last  we  decided  that  he  was  sleeping  middling  close  to  that  barrel,  so 
we  began  to  bore  closer  to  the  snore.  It  was  my  turn  to  bore,  I  remember, 
and  I  took  the  auger  with  a  heavy  heart.  I  bored  tlirough  the  floor,  and  for 
the  first  time  bored  into  something  besides  oxygen.  It  was  the  quartermaster. 
A  wild  yell  echoed  through  the  southern  confederacy,  and  I  pulled  out  my 
auger.  It  had  on  the  point  a  strawberry  mark,  and  a  fragment  of  one  of 
those  old-fashioned  woven  wire  gray  shirts,  such  as  quartermasters  used  to 
wear. 

"I  remember  that  we  then  left  the  tobacco-house.  In  the  hurry  we  forgot 
two  wash-tubs,  a  half -inch  auger,  and  980,301  new  half -inch  auger  holes  that 
had  never  been  used." 


♦'Doi^e  it  /^.purpose." 

A^^^T  Greeley  a  young  man  witli  a  faded  cardigan  jacket  and  a  look  of  woe 
\  (1/  got  on  the  train,  and  as  the  car  was  a  little  crowded  he  sat  in  the  seat 
jy'(^\^  with  me.  He  had  that  troubled  and  anxious  expression  that  a  rural 
~  ^~^  young  man  wears  when  he  first  rides  on  the  train.  When  the  engine 
whistled  he  would  almost  jump  out  of  that  cardigan  jacket,  and  then  he  would 
look  kind  of  foolish,  like  a  man  who  allows  his  impulses  to  get  the  best  of  him. 
Most  everyone  noticed  the  young  man  and  his  cardigan  jacket,  for  the  latter 
had  arrived  at  the  stage  of  droopiness  and  jaded-across-the-shoulders  look  that 
the  cheap  knit  jacket  of  commerce  acquires  after  awhile,  and  it  had  shrunken 
behind  and  stretched  out  in  front  so  that  the  horizon,  as  you  stood  behind  the 
young  man,  seemed  to  be  bound  by  the  tail  of  this  garment,  which  started  out 
at  the  pocket  with  good  intentions  and  suddenly  decided  to  rise  above  the 
young  man's  shoulder  blades. 

He  seemed  so  diffident  and  so  frightened  among  strangers,  that  I  began  to 
talk  with  him. 

"Do  you  live  at  Greeley?"  I  inquired. 

"No,  sir,"  he  said,  in  an  embarrassed  way,  as  most  anyone  might  in  the 
presence  of  greatness.  "I  live  on  a  ranch  up  the  Pandre.  I  was  just  at 
Greeley  to  see  the  circus." 

I  thought  I  would  play  the  tenderfoot  and  inquiring  pilgrim  from  the  cul- 
tured East,  so  I  said:  "You  do  not  see  the  circus  often  in  the  West,  I  pre- 
sume, the  distance  is  so  great  between  towns  and  the  cost  of  transportation  is 
so  great?" 

"No,  sir.  This  is  the  first  circus  I  ever  was  to.  I  have  never  saw  a  circus 
before." 

"How  did  you  like  it?" 

"  O,  tip-top.  It  was  a  good  thing.  I'd  like  to  see  it  every  day  if  I  could. 
I  laughed  and  drank  lemonade  till  I've  got  my  cloze  all  pinned  up  with  pins, 


"DONE   IT   A-PURPOSE. 


235 


and  I'd  as  soon  tell  you,  if  you  wont  give  it  away,  that  my  pants  is  tied  on  me 
with  barbed  fence  wire." 

"Probably  that's  what  gives  you  that  anxious  and  apprehensive  look?" 

"Yes,  sir.  If  I  look  kind  of  doubtless  about  something,  its  because  I'm 
afraid  my  pantaloons  will  fall  off  on  the  floor  and  I  will  have  to  borrow  a 
roller  towel  to  wear  home." 

"How  did  you  like  the  animals?" 

"I  liked  that  part  of  the  Great  Moral  Aggregation  the  best  of  all.  I  have 
not  saw  such  a  sight  before.  I  could  stand  there  and  watch  that  there  old 
scaly  elephant  stuff  hay  into  his  bosom  with 
his  long  rubber  nose  for  hours.  I'd  read  a 
good  deal  first  and  last  about  the  elephant, 
the  king  of  beasts,  but  I  had  never  yet  saw 
one.  Yesterday  father  told  me  there  hadn't 
been  much  joy  into  my  young  life,  and  so  he 
gave  me  a  dollar  and  told  me  to  go  over  to 
the  circus  and  have  a  grand  time.  I  tell  you, 
I  just  turned  myself  loose  and  gave  myself 
up  to  pleasure." 

"  What  other  animals  seemed  to  please 
you?"  I  asked,  seeing  that  he  was  getting  a 
little  freer  to  talk. 

"  Oh,  I  saw  the  blue-nosed  babboon  from 
Farther  India,  and  the  red-eyed  sandhill 
crane  from  Maddygasker,  I  think  it  was,  and 
the  sacred  Jack-rabbit  from  Scandihoovia, 
and  the  lop-eared  layme  from  South  America, 
robat  with  her  hair  tied  up  with  red  ribbon, 
wimmen.  They  get  big  pay,  but  they  never  buy  cloze  with  their  money.  Now, 
the  idea  of  a  woman  that  gets  $2  or  |3  a  day,  for  all  I  know,  coming  out  there 
before  2,000  total  strangers,  wearing  a  pair  of  Indian  war  clul>s  and  a  red  rib- 
bon in  her  hair.  I  tell  you,  pardner,  them  acrobat  prima  donnars  are  mighty 
stingy  with  their  money,  or  else  they're  mighty  economical  with  their  cloze." 

"  Did  you  go  into  the  side  show?" 

"No,  sir.  I  studied  the  oil  paintings  on  the  outside,  but  I  didn't  go  in.  I 
met  a  handsome  looking  man  there  near  the  side  show,  though,  that  seemed  to 


-^ 


I   WAS  A  POOR   CONVERSATIONALIST. 

Then  there  was  the  female  ac- 
It's  funny  about  them  acrobat 


236  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

take  an  interest  in  me.     There  was  a  lottery  along  with  the  show  and  he  wanted 
me  to  go  and  throw  for  him." 

"Capper,  probably?" 

"  Perhaps  so.  Anyhow,  he  gave  me  a  dollar  and  told  me  to  go  and  throw 
for  him." 

"Why  didn't  he  throw  for  himself?" 

"O,  he  said  the  lottery  man  knew  him  and  wouldn't  let  him  throw." 

"Of  course.  Same  old  story.  He  saw  you  were  a  greeney  and  got  you  to 
throw  for  him.  He  stood  in  with  the  game  so  that  you  drew  a  big  prize  for 
the  capper,  created  a  big  excitement,  and  you  and  the  crowd  sailed  in  and  lost 
all  the  money  you  had.  I'll  bet  he  was  a  man  with  a  velvet  coat,  and  a  mous- 
tache dyed  a  dead  black  and  waxed  as  sharp  as  a  cambric  needle." 

"Yes;  that's  his  description  to  a  dot.      I  wonder  if  he  really  did  do  that 
a-purpose." 

"Well,  tell  us  about  it.  It  does  me  good  to  hear  a  blamed  fool  tell  how  he 
lost  his  money.  Don't  you  see  that  your  awkward  ways  and  general  green- 
ness struck  the  capper  the  first  thing,  and  you  not  only  threw  away  your  own 
money,  but  two  or  three  hundred  other  wappy- jawed  pelicans  saw  you  draw  a 
big  prize  and  thought  it  was  yours,  then  they  deposited  what  little  they  had 
and  everything  was  lovely." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was,  if  it'll  do  any  good  and  save  other  young 
men  in  the  future.  You  see  this  capper,  as  you  call  him,  gave  me  a  $1  bill  to 
throw  for  him,  and  I  put  it  into  my  vest  pocket  so,  along  with  the  dollar  bill 
father  gave  me.  I  always  carry  my  money  in  my  right  hand  vest  pocket. 
Well,  I  sailed  up  to  the  game,  big  as  old  Jumbo  himself,  and  put  a  dollar  into 
the  game.  As  you  say,  I  drawed  a  big  prize,  $20  and  a  silver  cup.  The  man 
offered  me  $5  for  the  cup  and  I  took  it." 

"  Then  it  flashed  over  my  mind  that  I  might  have  got  my  dollar  and  the 
other  feller's  mixed,  so  I  says  to  the  proprietor,  '  I  vnll  now  invest  a  dollar  for 
a  gent  who  asked  me  to  draw  for  him.' 

"Thereupon  I  took  out  the  other  dollar,  and  I'll  be  eternally  chastised  if 
I  didn't  di"aw  a  brass  locket  worth  about  two  bits  a  bushel," 

I  didn't  say  anything  for  a  long  time.  Then  I  asked  him  how  the  cap- 
per acted  when  he  got  his  brass  locket. 

"  Well,  he  seemed  pained  and  grieved  about  something,  and  he  asked  me 
if  I  hadn't  time  to  go  away  into  a  quiet  place  where  we  could  talk  it  over  by 


"DONE   IT   A-PURPOSE."  237 

ourselves ;  but  he  liad  a  kind  of  a  cruel,  insincere  look  in  his  eye,  and  I  said 
no,  I  believed  I  didn't  care  to,  and  that  I  was  a  poor  conversationalist,  any- 
how ;  and  so  I  came  away,  and  left  him  looking  at  iiis  brass  locket  and  kicking 
holes  in  the  ground  and  using  profane  language. 

"Afterward  I  saw  him  talking  to  the  proprietor  of  the  lottery,  and  I  feel, 
somehow,  that  they  had  lost  confidence  in  me.  I  heard  them  speak  of  me  in  a 
jeering  tone  of  voice,  and  one  said  as  I  passed  by :  '  There  goes  the  meek-eyed 
rural  convict  now,'  and  he  used  a  horrid  oath  at  the  same  time. 

"  If  it  hadn't  been  for  that  one  little  quincidence,  there  would  have  been 
nothing  to  mar  the  enjoyment  of  the  occasion." 


pier^ie  Irjeide^ts. 


-." A^]  AMPI J^ G  out  in  summer  for  several  weeks  is  a  good  thing  generally. 
L  f  ^.  freedom  from  social  restraint  and  suspenders  is  a  great  luxury  for  a 
A^iMl  time,  and  nothing  purifies  the  blood  quicker,  or  makes  a  side  of  bacon 
^^  taste  more  like  snipe  on  toast,  than  the  crisp  ozone  that  floats  through 
the  hills  and  forests  where  man  can  monkey  o'er  the  green  grass  without 
violating  a  city  ordinance. 

The  picnic  is  an  aggravation.  It  has  just  enough  of  civilization  to  be  a 
nuisance,  and  not  enough  barbarism  to  make  life  seem  a  luxury.  If  our  aim 
be  to  lean  up  against  a  tree  all  day  in  a  short  seersucker  coat  and  ditto  panta- 
loons that  segregated  while  we  were  festooning  the  hammock,  the  picnic  is  the 
thino-.  If  we  desire  to  go  home  at  night  with  a  jelly  symphony  on  each  knee 
and  a  thousand-legged  worm  in  each  ear,  we  may  look  upon  the  picnic  as   a 

success. 

But  to  those  who  wish  to  forget  the  past  and  live  only  in  the  booming 
present,  to  get  careless  of  gain  and  breathe  brand-new  air  that  has  never  been 
used,  to  appease  an  irritated  liver,  or  straighten  out  a  torpid  lung,  let  me  say, 
pick  out  a  high,  dry  clime,  where  there  are  trout  enough  to  give  you  an  excuse 
for  going  there,  take  what  is  absolutely  necessary  and  no  more,  and  then  stay 
there  long  enough  to  have  some  fun. 

If  we  picnic,  we  wear  ourselves  out  trying  to  have  a  good  time,  so  that  we 
can  tell  about  it  when  we  get  back,  but  we  do  not  actually  get  acquainted  with 
each  other  before  we  have  to  quit  and  return. 

To  camp,  is  to  change  the  whole  programme  of  life,  and  to  stop  long  enough 
in  the  never-ending  conflict  for  dollars  and  distinction,  to  get  a  full  breath  and 
look  over  the  field.  Still,  it  is  not  always  smooth  sailing.  To  camp,  is  some- 
times to  show  the  material  of  which  we  are  made.  The  dude  at  home  is  the 
dude  in  camp,  and  wherever  he  goes  he  demonstrates  that  he  was  made  for 
naught.  I  do  not  know  what  a  camping  party  would  do  with  a  dude  unless 
they  used  him  to  bait  a  bear  trap  with,  and  even  then  it  would  be  taking  a 
mean  advantage  of  the  bear.  The  bear  certainly  has  some  rights  which  we 
are  bound  in  all  decency  to  respect. 

(238) 


PICNIC   INCIDENTS. 


239 


James  Milton  Slierrod  said  he  liad  a  peculiar  experience  once  while  he  was 
in  camp  on  the  Povulre  in  Colorado. 

"We  went  over  from  Larmy,"  said  he,  "in  July,  eight  years  ago — four  of 
us.  There  was  me  and  Charcoal  Brown,  and  old  Joe  and  young  Joe  Connoy. 
We  had  just  got  comfortably  down  on  the  Lower  Fork,  out  of  the  reach  of 
everybody  and  sixty  miles  from  a  doctor,  when  Charcoal  Brown  got  sick.  Wa'al, 
we  had  a  big  time  of  it.  You  can  imagine 
yourself  somethin'  about  it.  Long  in  the 
night  Brown  began  to  groan  and  whoop  and 
holler,  and  I  made  a  diagnosis  of  him.  He 
didn't  have  much  sand  anyhow.  He  was 
tryin'  to  git  a  pension  from  the  govern- 
ment on  the  grounds  of  desertion  and 
failure  to  provide,  and  some  such  a  blame 
thing  or  another,  so  I  didn't  feel  much 
sympathy  fur  him.  But  when  I  lit  the 
gas  and  examined  him,  I  found  that  he 
had  a  large  fever  on  hand,  and  there  we 
was  without  a  doggon  thing  in  the  house 
but  a  jug  of  emigrant  whiskey  and  a  pa- 
per of  condition  powders  fur  the  mule,  I 
was  a  good  deal  rattled  at  first  to  know 
what  the  dickens  to  do  fur  him.  The  whiskey 
wouldn't  do  him  any  good,  and,  besides, 
if  he  was  goin'  to  have  a  long  spell  of 
sickness  we  needed  it  for   the   watchers. 

"Wa'al,  it  was  rough.  I'd  think  of  a  thousand  things  that  was  good  fur 
fevers,  and  then  I'd  remember  that  we  hadn't  got  'em.  Finally  old  Joe  says 
to  me,  'James,  why  don't  ye  soak  his  feet?'  says  he.  'Soak  nuthin','  says  I; 
'what  would  ye  soak  'em  in?'  We  had  a  long-handle  frying-pan,  and  we 
could  heat  water  in  it,  of  course,  but  it  was  too  shaller  to  do  any  good,  any- 
how ;  so  we  abandoned  that  synopsis  right  ofP.  First  I  thought  I'd  try  the 
condition  powders  in  him,  but  I  hated  to  go  into  a  case  and  prescribe  so  reck- 
lessly. Finally  I  thought  of  a  case  of  rheumatiz  that  I  had  up  in  Bitter 
Creek  years  ago,  and  how  the  boys  filled  their  socks  full  of  hot  ashes  and  put 
'em  all  over  me  till  it  started  the  persbyterian  all  over  me  and  I  got  over  it. 


MAKING    USE    OF    A    DUDE. 


240 


EEMAKKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


PICNIC   INCIDENTS.  241 

So  we  begun  to  skirmish  around  the  tent  for  socks,  and  I  hope  I  may  be  tee- 
totally  skun  if  there  was  a  blame  sock  in  the  whole  syndicate.  Ez  fur  me,  I 
never  wore  'em,  but  I  did  think  young  Joe  would  be  fixed.  He  wasn't  though. 
Said  he  didn't  want  to  be  considered  proud  and  high  strung,  so  he  left  his 
socks  at  home. 

"Then  we  begun  to  look  around  and  finally  decided  that  Brown  would  die 
pretty  soon  if  we  didn't  break  up  the  fever,  so  we  concluded  to  take  all  the 
ashes  under  the  camp-fire,  fill  up  his  cloze,  which  was  loose,  tie  his  sleeves  at 
the  wrists,  and  his  pants  at  the  ankles,  give  him  a  dash  of  condition  poAvders 
and  a  little  whiskey  to  take  the  taste  out  of  his  mouth,  and  then  see  what 
ejosted  nature  would  do. 

So  we  stood  Brown  up  agin  a  tree  and  poured  hot  ashes  down  his  back  till 
he  begun  to  fit  his  cloze  pretty  quick,  and  then  we  laid  him  down  in  the 
tent  and  covered  him  up  with  everything  we  had  in  our  humble  cot.  Every- 
thing worked  well  till  he  begun  to  perspirate,  and  then  there  was  music,  and 
don't  you  forget  it.  That  kind  of  soaked  the  ashes,  don't  you  see,  and  made 
a  lye  that  would  take  the  peelin'  off  a  telegraph  pole. 

"Charcoal  Brown  jest  simply  riz  up  and  uttered  a  shrill  whoop  that  jarred 
the  geology  of  Colorado,  and  made  my  blood  run  cold.  The  goose  flesh  riz 
on  old  Joe  Connoy  till  you  could  hang  your  hat  on  him  anywhere.  It  was 
awful. 

"Brown  stood  up  on  his  feet,  and  threw  things,  and  cussed  us  till  we  felt 
ashamed  of  ourselves.  I've  seen  sickness  a  good  deal  in  my  time,  but — I  give 
it  to  you  straight — I  never  seen  an  invalid  stand  up  in  the  loneliness  of  the 
night,  far  from  home  and  friends,  with  the  concentrated  lye  oozin'  out  of  the 
cracks  of  his  boots,  and  reproach  people  the  way  Charcoal  Brown  did  us. 

"  He  got  over  it,  of  course,  before  Christmas,  but  he  was  a  different  man 
after  that.  I've  been  out  campin'  with  him  a  good  many  times  sence,  but  he 
never  complained  of  feelin'  indisposed.  He  seemed  to  be  timid  about  tellin' 
us  even  if  he  was  under  the  weather,  and  old  Joe  Connoy  said  mebbe  Brown 
was  afraid  we  would  prescribe  fur  him  or  sumthin'.". 


J^lero. 


EEO,  who  was  a  Pioman  Emperor  from  54  to  68  A.  D.,  was 
said  to  liave  been  one  of  tlie  most  disagreeable  monarcbs  to 
meet  that  Rome  ever  had.  He  was  a  nephew  of  Culigula, 
the  Emperor,  on  his  mother's  side,  and  a  son  of  Domini- 
tius  Ahenobarbust,  of  St.  Lawrence  county.  The  above 
was  really  Nero's  name,  but  in  the  year  50,  A.  D.,  his 
mother  married  Claudius  and  her  son  adopted  the  name  of 
Nero  Claudius  Caesar  Drusus  Germ  aniens.  This  name  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  wearing  during  the  cold  weather,  but- 
toned up  in  front.  During  the  hot  weather,  Nero  was 
all  the  name  he  wore.  In  53,  Nero  married  Octavia,  daughter  of  Claudius,  and 
went  right  to  housekeeping.  Nero  and  Octavia  did  not  get  along  first-rate. 
Nero  soon  wearied  of  his  young  wife  and  finally  transferred  her  to  the  New 
Jerusalem. 

In  54,  Nero's  mother,  by  concealing  the  rightful  heir  to  the  throne  for  sev- 
eral weeks  and  doctoring  the  returns,  succeeded  in  getting  the  steady  job  of 
Emperor  for  Nero  at  a  good  salary. 

His  reign  was  quite  stormy  and  several  long,  bloody  wars  were  carried  on 
durino-  that  period.  He  was  a  good  vicarious  fighter  and  could  successfully 
hold  a  man's  coat  all  day,  while  the  man  went  to  the  front  to  get  killed.  He 
loved  to  go  out  riding  over  the  battle  fields,  as  soon  as  it  was  safe,  in  his  gor- 
geously bedizened  band  chariot  and  he  didn't  care  if  the  wheels  rolled  in  gore 
up  to  the  hub,  providing  it  was  some  other  man's  gore.  It  gave  him  great 
pleasure  to  drive  about  over  the  field  of  carnage  and  gloat  over  the  dead.  Nero 
was  not  a  great  success  as  an  Emperor,  but  as  a  gloater  he  has  no  rival  in 
history. 

Nero's  reign  was  characterized,  also,  by  the  great  conflagration  and  Ro- 
man fireworks  of  July,  64,  by  which  two-thirds  of  the  city  of  Rome  was  de- 
stroyed. The  emperor  Avas  charged  with  starting  this  fire  in  order  to  get  the 
insurance  on  a  stock  of  dry  goods  on  Main  street. 

(242) 


NERO.  243 

Instead  of  taking  off  liis  crown,  hanging  it  up  in  the  hall  and  helping  to 
put  out  the  fire,  as  other  Emperors  have  done  time  and  again,  Nero  took  his 
violin  up  stairs  and  played,  "I'll  Meet  You  When  the  Sun  Goes  Down."  This 
occasioned  a  great  deal  of  adverse  criticism  on  the  part  of  those  who  opposed 
the  administration.  Several  j^ersons  openly  criticised  Nero's  policy  and  then 
died. 

A  man  in  those  days,  would  put  on  his  overcoat  in  the  morning  and  tell  his 
wife  not  to  keep  dinner  waiting.  "  I  am  going  down  town  to  criticise  the  Em- 
peror a  few  moments,"  he  would  say.  "If  I  do  not  get  home  in  time  for  din- 
ner, meet  me  on  the  'evergreen  shore.'" 

Nero,  after  the  death  of  Octavia,  married  Poppiiea  Sabina.  She  died  after- 
ward at  her  husband's  earnest  solicitation.  Nero  did  not  care  so  much  about 
being  a  bridegroom,  but  the  excitement  of  being  a  widower  always  gratified  and 
pleased  him. 

He  was  a  very  zealous  monarch  and  kept  Rome  pretty  well  stirred  up  dur- 
ing his  reign.  If  a  man  failed  to  show  up  anywhere  on  time,  his  friends  would 
look  sadly  at  each  other  and  say,  "Alas,  he  has  criticised  Nero." 

A  man  could  wrestle  with  the  yellow  fever,  or  the  small -pox,  or  the  Asiatic 
cholera  and  stand  a  chance  for  recovery,  but  when  he  spoke  sarcastically  of 
Nero,  it  was  good-bye  John. 

When  Nero  decided  that  a  man  was  an  offensive  partisan,  that  man  would 
generally  put  up  the  following  notice  on  his  ofiice  door: 

"Gone  to  see  the  Emperor  in  relation  to  charge  of  offensive  partisanship. 
Meet  me  at  the  cemetery  at  2  o'clock." 

Finally,  Nero  overdid  this  thing  and  ran  it  into  the  ground.  He  did  not 
want  to  be  disliked  and  so,  those  who  disliked  him  were  killed.  This  made 
people  timid  and  muzzled  the  press  a  good  deal. 

The  Roman  papers  in  those  days  were  all  on  one  side.  They  did  not  dare 
to  be  fearless  and  outspoken,  for  fear  that  Nero  would  take  out  his  ad.  So  they 
would  confine  themselves  to  the  statement  that:  "The  genial  and  urbane  Af- 
ranius  Burrhus  had  painted  his  new  and  reclierche  picket  fence  last  week,"  or 
"Our  enterprising  fellow  townsman,  Cicsar  Kersikes,  will  remove  the  tail  of 
his  favorite  bulldog  next  week,  if  the  weather  should  be  auspicious,"  or  "Miss 
Agrippina  Bangoline,  eldest  daughter  of  Rcmiulus  Bangoline,  the  great  Ro- 
man rinkist,  will  teach  the  school  at  Eupatorium,  Trifoliatum  Holler,  this 
summer.     She  is  a  highly  accomplished  young  lady,  and  a  good  speller." 


244  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Nero  got  more  and  more  fatal  as  lie  grew  older,  and  finally  the  Komans  be- 
gan to  wonder  whether  he  would  not  wipe  out  tlie  Empire  before  he  died.  His 
back  yard  was  full  all  the  time  of  people  who  had  dropped  in  to  be  killed,  so  that 
tho^  t'Duld  have  it  off  their  minds. 

Finally,  Nero  himself  yielded  to  the  great  strain  that  had  been  placed  upon 
him  and,  in  the  midst  of  an  insurrection  in  Gaul,  Spain  and  Eome  itself,  he 
fled  and  killed  himself. 

The  Homans  were  very  grateful  for  Nero's  great  crowning  act  in  the  kill- 
ing line,  but  they  were  dissatisfied  because  he  delayed  it  so  long,  and  therefore 
they  refused  to  erect  a  tall  monument  over  his  remains.  While  tliey  admired 
the  royal  suicide  and  regarded  it  as  a  success,  they  censured  Nero's  negli- 
gence and  poor  judgment  in  suiciding  at  the  wrong  end  of  his  reign. 

I  have  often  wondered  what  Nero  would  have  done  if  he  had  been  Emperor 
of  the  United  States  for  a  few  weeks  and  felt  as  sensitive  to  newspaper  criti- 
cism as  he  seems  to  have  been.  Wouldn't  it  be  a  picnic  to  see  Nero  cross  the 
Jersey  ferry  to  kill  off  a  few  journalists  who  had  adversely  criticised  his  course? 
The  great  violin  vii-tuoso  and  ligiit  weight  Eoman  tyrant  would  probably  go  home 
by  return  mail,  wrapped  in  tinfoil,  accompanied  by  a  note  of  regret  from  each 
journalist  in  New  York,  closing  with  the  remark,  that  "in  the  midst  of  life  we 
are  in  death,  therefore  now  is  the  time  to  subscribe." 


5qtiau;  Ji/T). 


^i 


a 


[,  you  long-haired,  backslidden  Caucasian  nomad,  why  don't  you  say 
something?     Brace  up  and  tell  us  your  experience.     Were  you  kid- 
(^l^i    napped  when  you  were  a  kid  and  run  off  into  the  wild  wickyup  of 
^1"^     the  forest,  or  how  was  it  that  you  came  to  leave  the  Yankee  reserva- 
tion and  eat  the  raw  dog  of  the  Sioux?" 

We  were  all  sitting  around  the  roaring  fat-pine  fire  at  the  foot  of  the  canon, 
and  above  us  the  full  moon  was  filling  the  bottom  of  the  black  notch  in  the 
mountains,  where  God  began  to  engrave  the  gulch  that  grew  wider  and  deeper 
till  it  reached  the  valley  where  we  were. 

Squaw  Jim  was  tall,  silent  and  grave.     He  was  as  dignified  as  the  king  of 

clubs,  and  as  reticent  as  the  private 
cemetery  of  a  deaf  and  dumb  asy- 
lum. He  didn't  move  when  Dutch 
Joe  spoke  to  him,  but  he  noticed  the 
remark,  and  after  awhile  got  up  in 
the  firelight,  and  later  on  the  silent 
savage  made  the  longest  speech  of 
his  life. 

"  Boys,  you  call  me  Squaw  Jim, 
and  you  call  my  girl  a  half  breed. 
I  have  no  other  name  than  Squaw 
Jim  with  the  pale  faced  dude  and  the 
dyspeptic  sky  pilot  who  tells  me  of 
his  God.  You  call  mo  Squaw  Jim 
because  I've  married  a  squaw  and 
insist  on  living  with  her.  If  I  had 
married  Mist-of-the-Waterfall,  and 
had  lived  in  my  tepee  with  her  sum- 
mers, and  wintered  at  St.  Louis  with  a  wife  who  belonged  to  a  tall  peaked 
church,  and  who  wore  her  war  paint,  and  her  false  scalp-lock,  and  her  false 
heart   into    God's    wigwam,    I'd   be  all  right,   probably.     They  would  have 

(a45) 


"BOYS,    YOU    CALL    ME    SQUAW    JIM." 


246  EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

laughed  about  it  a  little  among  the  boys,  but  it  would  have  been  "  wayno"  in  the 
big  stone  lodges  at  the  white  man's  city. 

"I  loved  a  pale  faced  girl  in  Connecticut  forty  years  ago.  She  said 
she  did  me,  but  she  met  with  a  change  of  heart  and  married  a  bare-back 
rider  in  a  circus.  Then  she  ran  aAvay  with  the  swoi"d  swallower  of  the  side 
show,  and  finally  broke  her  neck  trying  to  walk  the  tight  rope.  The  jury  said  if 
the  rope  had  been  as  tight  as  she  was  it  might  have  saved  her  life. 

"Since  then  I've  been  where  the  sun  and  the  air  and  the  soil  were  free. 
It  kind  of  soothed  me  to  wear  moccasins  and  throw  my  biled  shirt  into  the 
Missouri.  It  took  the  fever  of  jealousy  and  disappointment  out  of  my  soul  to 
sleep  in  the  great  bosom  of  the  unhoused  night.  Soon  I  learned  how  to  par- 
ley-vous  in  the  Indian  language,  and  to  wear  the  clothes  of  the  red  man.  I 
married  the  squaw  girl  who  saved  me  from  the  mountain  fever  and  my  foes. 
She  did  not  yearn  for  the  equestrian  of  the  white  man's  circus.  She  didn't 
know  how  to  raise  XxYxZ  to  the  nth  power,  but  she  was  a  wife  worthy  of  the 
President  of  the  United  States.  She  was  way  off  the  trail  in  matters  of  eti- 
quette, but  she  didn't  know  what  it  was  to  envy  and  hate  the  pale  faced  squaw 
with  the  sealskin  sacque  and  the  torpid  liver,  and  the  high-priced  throne  of 
grace.  She  never  sighed  to  go  where  they  are  filling  up  Connecticut's  celes- 
tial exhibit  with  girls  who  get  mysteriously  murdered  and  the  young  men  who 
did  it  go  out  lecturing.     You  see  I  keep  posted. 

"Boys,  you  kind  of  pity  me,  I  reckon,  and  say  Squaw  Jim  might  have 
been  in  Congress  if  he'd  stayed  with  his  people  and  wore  night  shirts  and 
pared  his  claws,  but  you  needn't. 

"My  wife  can't  knock  the  tar  out  of  a  symphony  on  the  piano,  but  she  can 
mop  the  dew  off  the  grass  with  a  burglar,  and  knock  out  a  dude's  eyes  at  sixty 
yards  rise. 

"My  wife  is  a  little  foggy  on  the  winter  style  of  salvation,  and  probably 
you'd  stall  her  on  how  to  di'ape  a  silk  velvet  overskirt  so  it  wouldn't  hang  one- 
sided, but  she  has  a  crude  idea  of  an  every  day,  all  avooI  General  Superintend- 
ent of  the  Universe  and  Father  of  all-Humanity,  whether  they  live  under  a 
horse  blanket  tepee  or  a  Gothic  mortgage.  She  might  look  out  of  place  before 
the  cross,  with  her  chilblains  and  her  childlike  confidence,  among  the  Tom  cat 
sealskin  sacques  of  your  camel's  hair  Christianity,  but  if  the  world  was  sup- 
plied with  Christians  like  my  wife,  purgatory  would  make  an  assignment,  and 
the  Salvation  Army  would  go  home  and  hoe  corn.     Sabe  ? 


5s'J3u/  Ji/T\'5  I^eli(^io9. 

EFEEEING  to  religious  matters,  the  other  day,  Sqaw  Jim  said:  "I  was 
up  at  the  Post  yesterday  to  kind  of  rub  up  against  royalty,  and 
j!  'i^m  refresh  my  memory  with  a  few  papers.  I  ain't  a  regular  subscriber  to 
any  paper,  for  I  can't  always  get  my  mail  on  time.  We're  liable  to  be 
here,  there  and  everywhere,  mebbe  at  some  celebrated  Sioux  watering  place 
and  mebbe  on  the  warpath,  so  I  can't  rely  on  the  mails  much,  but  I  manage, 
generally,  to  get  hold  of  a  few  old  papers  and  magazines  now  and  then.  I 
don't  always  know  who's  president  before  breakfast  the  day  after  election,  but 
I  manage  to  skirmish  around  and  find  out  before  his  term  expires. 

"Now,  speaking  about  the  religion  of  the  day,  or,  rather,  the  place  where 
it  used  to  be,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  there's  a  mistake  somewhere.  It  looks  as  if 
religion  meant  greenness,  and  infidelity  meant  science  and  smartness,  accord- 
ing to  the  papers.  I'm  no  scientist  myself.  I  don't  know  evolution  from  the 
side  of  a  house.  As  an  evolver  I  couldn't  earn  my  board,  probably,  and  I 
wouldn't  know  a  protoplasm  from  a  side  of  sole  leather ;  but  I  know  when  I 
get  to  the  end  of  my  picket  rope,  and  I  know  just  as  sure  where  the  knowable 
quits  and  the  unknowable  begins  as  anybody.  I  mean  I  can  crawl  into  a  prairie 
dog  hole,  and  pull  the  hole  in  and  put  it  in  my  pocket,  in  my  poor,  weak  way, 
just  as  well  as  a  scientist  can.  If  a  man  offered  to  trade  me  a  spavined 
megatherium  for  a  foundered  hypothesis,  I  couldn't  know  enough  about  either 
of  the  blamed  brutes  to  trade  and  make  a  profit.  I  never  run  around  after 
delightful  worms  and  eccentric  caterpillers.  I  have  so  far  controlled  myself 
and  escaped  the  habit,  but  I  am  able  to  arrive  at  certain  conclusions.  You 
think  that  because  I  am  the  brother-in-law  to  an  Indian  outbreak,  I  don't  care 
whether  Zion  languishes  or  not;  but  you  are  erroneous.  You  make  a  very 
common  mistake. 

"Mind  you,  I  don't  pretend  to  be  up  on  the  plan  of  salvation,  and  so  far  as 
vicarious  atonement  goes,  I  don't  even  know  who  is  the  author  of  it,  but  I've 
got  a  kind  of  hand-made  religion  that  suits  me.  It's  cheap,  and  portable,  and 
durable,  and  stands  our  severe  northern  climate  first  rate.     It  ain't  the  pro- 

(247) 


248 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


tuberant  kind.  It  don't  protudo  into  other  people's  way  like  a  sore  thumb. 
All-wool  religion  don't  go  around  with  a  chip  on  it's  shoulder  looking  for  a 
personal  deal. 

"If  I  had  time  and  could  move  my  library  around  with  me  during  our 
summer  tour,  I  might  monkey  with  speculative  science  and  expose  the  plan  of 

creation,  l)ut  as  it 

^^     ^'^^■^      -^^^--;r„  ..  ^  — -  ■• is    now,    I    really 

haven't  time. 

"I  say  this,  how- 
ever, friends,   Ro- 
mans and  backslid- 
ers :    I  think  some- 
times when  my  lit- 
tle half-breed  girl 
comes  to  me  in  the 
evening    in    her    night 
dress,  and  kneels  by  me 
with  her  little  brown  face 
een  my  knees,  and  with 
1  hands  in  her  unbraided 
hair,  that  she's  got  something 
better  than  speculative  science. 
"When  she  says: 

'Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep. 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep; 
If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take: 
This  I  ask  for  Jesus'  sake  ; ' 

MOVING  HIS  LIBRARY  ^^^^  ^  know  that  a  million  more  little  angels  are 

saying  that  same  thing,  at  that  same  hour,  to  that 
same  imaginary  God,  I  say  to  myself,  if  that  is  a  vain,  empty  infatuation, 
blessed  be  that  holy  infatuation. 

"If  that's  a  wild  and  crazy  delusion,  let  me  be  always  deluded.  If  forty  mil- 
lions of  chubby  little  angels  bow  their  dimpled  knees  every  evening  to  a  false 
and  foolish  tradition,  let  me  do  so,  too.  If  I  die,  then  I  will  be  in  good  com- 
pany, even  if  I  go  no  farther  than  the  clouds  of  the  valley. 


Or)<i  l^ir>d  of  pool. 


^Ki\  YOUNG  man,  with  a  plated  watch-chain  that  would  do  to  tie  up  a  sacred 
Yfrt  v(  elephant,  came  into  Denver  the  other  day  from  the  East,  on  the  Jules- 
ill:'/\X  burg  Short  line,  and  told  the  hotel  clerk  that  he  had  just  returned  from 
~'^>^^  Europe,  and  was  on  his  way  across  the  continent  with  the  intention  of 
publishing  a  book  of  international  information.  He  handed  an  oilcloth  grip 
across  the  counter,  registered  in  a  bold,  bad  way  and  with  a  flourish  that  scat- 
tered the  ink  all  over  the  clerk's  white  shirt  front. 

He  was  assigned  to  a  quiet  room  on  the  fifth  floor,  that  had  been  damao-ed 
by  water  a  few  weeks  before  by  the  fire  department.  After  an  hour  or  two 
spent  in  riding  up  and  down  the  elevator  and  ringing  for  things  that  didn't 
cost  anything,  he  oiled  his  hair  and  strolled  into  the  dining-room  with  a  severe 
air  and  sat  down  opjiosite  a  big  cattle  man,  who  never  oiled  his  hair  or  stuck 
his  nose  into  other  people's  business. 

The  European  traveler  entered  into  conversation  with  the  cattle  man.  He 
told  him  all  about  Paris  and  the  continent,  meanwhile  polishing  his  hands  on 
the  tablecloth  and  eating  everything  within  reach.  While  he  ate  another 
man's  dessert,  he  chatted  on  gaily  about  Cologne  and  pitied  the  cattle  man  who 
had  to  stay  out  on  the  bleak  plains  and  watch  the  cows,  while  others  paddled 
around  Venice  and  acquired  information  in  a  foreign  land. 

At  first  the  cattle  man  showed  some  interest  in  Europe,  but  after  awhile  he 
grew  quiet  and  didn't  seem  to  enjoy  it.  Later  on  the  European  tourist,  with 
soiled  cuffs  and  auburn  mane,  ordered  the  waiters  around  in  a  majestic  way,  to 
impress  people  with  his  greatness,  tipped  over  the  vinegar  cruet  into  the  salt 
and  ate  a  slice  of  boiled  egg  out  of  another  man's  salad. 

Casually  a  tall  Kansas  man  strolled  in  and  asked  the  European  tourist 
what  he  was  doing  in  Denver.  The  cattle  man,  who,  by  the  way,  has  been 
abroad  five  or  six  times  and  is  as  much  at  home  in  Paris  as  he  is  in  Omaha, 
investigated  the  matter,  and  learned  that  the  fresh  French  tourist  had  been 
herding  hens  on  a  chicken  ranch  in  Kansas  for  six  years,  and  had  never  seen 

m9) 


250  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE, 

blue  water.  He  then  took  a  few  personal  friends  to  the  dining-room  door,  and 
they  watched  the  alleged  traveler.  He  had  just  taken  a  long,  refreshing  drink 
from  the  finger  bowl  of  his  neighbor  on  the  left  and  was  at  that  moment,  try- 
ing to  scoop  up  a  lump  of  sugar  with  the  wrong  end  of  the  tongs. 

There  are  a  good  many  fools  who  drift  around  through  the  world  and  dodge 
the  authorities,  but  the  most  disastrous  ass  that  I  know  is  the  man  who  goes 
West  with  two  dollars  and  forty  cents  in  his  pocket,  without  brains  enough  to 
soil  the  most  delicate  cambric  handkerchief,  and  tries  to  play  himself  for  a  sa- 
vant with  so  much  knowledge  that  he  has  to  shed  information  all  the  time  to 
keep  his  abnormal  knowledge  from  hurting  him. 


Jo[?9  /^dam5'  Diary. 


'ECEMBER  3,  1764. — I  am  determined  to  keep  a  diary,  if  possible,  the 
IP^  rl  rest  of  my  life.  I  fully  realize  how  difficult  it  will  be  to  do  so.  Many 
'■''  others  of  my  acquaintance  have  endeavored  to  maintain  a  diary,  but 
'^^  have  only  advanced  so  far  as  the  second  week  in  January.  It  is  my 
purpose  to  write  down  each  evening  the 
events  of  the  day  as  they  occur  to  my  mind, 
in  order  that  in  a  few  years  they  may  be 
read  and  enjoyed  by  my  family.  I  shall 
try  to  deal  truthfully  with  all  matters  that 
I  may  refer  to  in  these  pages,  whether 
they  be  of  national  or  personal  interest, 
and  I  shall  seek  to  avoid  anything  bitter 
or  vituperative,  trying  rather  to  cool  my 
temper  before  I  shall  submit  my  thouglits 
to  paper. 

December  4. —  This  morning  we  have 
had  trouble  with  the  hired  girl.  It  occurred 
in  this  wise:  We  had  fully  two-thirds  of 
a  pumpkin  pie  that  had  been  baked  in  a 
square  tin.  This  major  portion  of  the 
pie  was  left  over  from  our  dinner  yester- 
day, and  last  night,  before  retiring  to  rest, 
I  desired  my  wife  to  suggest  something  in 
the  cold  pie  line,  which  she  did.  I  lit  a 
candle  and  explored  the  pantry  in  vain. 
The  pie  was  no  longer  visible.  I  told  Mrs. 
Adams  that  I  had  not  been  successful, 
whereupon  we  sought  out  the  hired  girl, 
whose  name  is  Tootie  Tooterson,  a  foreign' damsel,  who  landed  in  this  country 
Nov.  7,  this  present  year.     She  does  not  understand  our  language,  apparently, 

(251) 


"Where's  the  pie?" 


252 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


especially  when  we  refer  to  pie.  The  only  thing  she  does  without  a  strong 
foreign  accent  is  to  eat  pumpkin  pie  and  draw  her  salary.  She  landed 
on  our  coast  six  weeks  ago,  after  a  tedious  voyage  across  the  heaving  billows. 
It  was  a  close  fight  between  Tootie  and  the  ocean,  but  when  they  quit,  the 
heaving  billows  were  one  heave  ahead  by  the  log. 

Miss  Tooterson  landed  in  Massachusetts  in  a  woolen  dress  and  hollow  clear 
down  into  the  ground.  A  strong  desire  to  acquire  knowledge  and  cold,  hand- 
made American  pie  seems  to  pervade  her  entire  being. 

She  has  only  allowed  Mrs.  Adams  and  myself  to  eat  what  she  did  not  want 
herself. 

Miss  Tooterson  has  also  introduced  into  my  household  various  European 
eccentricities  and  strokes  of  economy  which  deserve  a  brief  notice  here. 
Among  other  things  she  has  made  pie  crust  with  castor  oil  in  it,  and  lubricated 
the  pancake  griddle  with  a  pork  rind  that  I  had  used  on  my  lame  neck.  She 
is  thrifty  and  saving  in  this  way,  but  rashly  extravagant  in  the  use  of  dough- 
nuts, pie  and  Medford  rum,  which  we  keep  in  the  house  for  visitors  who  are 
so  unfortunate  as  to  be  addicted  to  the  doughnut,  pie  or  rum  habit. 

It  is  discouraging,  indeed,  for  two  young  people  like  Mrs.  Adams  and  myself, 

who  have  just  begun  to  keep  house,  to  inherit  a 
famine,  and  such  a  robust  famine,  too.  It  is  true 
that  I  should  not  have  set  my  heart  upon  such  a 
transitory  and  evanescent  terrestrial  object  like  a 
pumpkin  pie  so  near  to  T.  Tooterson,  imported  pie 
soloist,  doughnut  mastro  and  feminine  virtuoso, 
but  I  did,  and  so  I  returned  from  the  pantry  des- 
olate. 

I  told  Abigail  that  unless  we  poisoned  a  few 
pies  for  Tootie  the  Adams  family  would  be  a  short- 
lived race.  I  could  see  with  my  prophetic  eye 
that  unless  the  Tootersons  yielded  the  Adamses 
would  be  wiped  out.  Abigail  would  not  consent 
to  this,  but  decided  to  relieve  Miss  Tooterson  from 
duty  in  this  department,  so  this  morning  she  went 
away.  Not  being  at  all  familiar  with  the  English  language,  she  took  four  of 
Abigail's  sheets  and  quite  a  number  of  towels,  handkerchiefs  and  collars.  She 
also  erroneously  took  a  pair  of  my  night-shirts  in  her  poor,  broken  way.     Being 


A   PIE    SOLOIST. 


I 


JOHN   ADAMS'    DIARY. 


253 


entirely  ignorant  o£  American  customs,  I  presume  that  she  will  put  a  belt  around 
them  and  wear  them  externally  to  church.  I  trust  that  she  will  not  do  this, 
however,  without  mature  deliberation. 


IGNORANT    OF    AMERICAN    CUSTOMS. 

I  also  had  a  bottle  of  lung  medicine  of  a  very  powerful  nature  which  the 
doctor  had  prepared  for  me.  By  some  oversight,  Miss  Tooterson  drank  this 
the  first  day  that  she  was  in  our  service.  This  was  entirely  wrong,  as  I  did  not 
intend  to  use  it  for  the  foreign  trade,  but  mostly  for  home  consumption. 

This  is  a  little  piece  of  drollery  that  I  thought  of  myself.  I  do  not  think 
that  a  joke  impairs  the  usefulness  of  a  diary,  as  some  do.  A  diary  with  a 
joke  in  it  is  just  as  good  to  fork  over  to  posterity  as  one  that  is  not  thus 
disfigured.  In  fact,  what  has  posterity  ever  done  for  me  that  I  should  hesitate 
about  socking  a  little  humor  into  a  diary  ?  When  has  posterity  ever  gone  out 
of  its  way  to  do  me  a  favor?  Never!  I  defy  the  historian  to  show  a  single 
instance  where  posterity  has  ever  been  the  first  to  recognize  and  remunerate 
ability. 


Jot7i7  f\dafr\$'  Diary. 


(No.  2.) 

'ECEMBER  6. — It  is  with  great  difficulty  that  I  write  this  entry  in  my 
diary,  for  this  morning  Abigail  thought  best  for  me  to  carry  the  ole- 
ander down  into  the  cellar,  as  the  nights  have  been  growing  colder  of 
^       late. 

I  do  not  know  which  I  dislike  most,  foreign  usurpation  or  the  oleander.  I 
have  carried  that  plant  up  and  down  stairs  every  time  the  weather  has  changed, 
and  the  fickle  elements  of  New  England  have  kept  me  rising  and  falling  with 
the  thermometer,  and  whenever  1  raised  or  fell  I  most  always  had  that  scrawny 
oleander  in  my  arms. 

Kiclily  has  it  repaid  us,  however,  with  its  long,  green,  limber  branches  and 
its  little  yellow  nubs  on  the  end.  How  full  of  promises  to  the  eye  that  are 
broken  to  the  heart.  The  oleander  is  always  just  about  to  meet  its  engage- 
ments, but  later  on  it  peters  out  and  fails  to  materialize. 

I  do  not  know  what  we  would  do  if  it  were  not  for  our  house  plants.  Every 
fall  I  shall  carry  them  cheerfully  down  cellar,  and  in  the  spring  I  will  bring  up  the 
pots  for  Mrs.  Adams  to  weep  softly  into.  Many  a  night  at  the  special  instance 
and  request  of  my  wife  I  have  risen,  clothed  in  one  simple,  clinging  garment, 
to  go  and  see  if  the  speckled,  double  and  twisted  Kise-up- William-Riley  gera- 
nium was  feeling  all  right. 

Last  summer  Abigail  brought  home  a  slip  of  English  ivy.  I  do  not  like 
things  that  are  English  very  much,  but  I  tolerated  this  little  sickly  thing  be- 
cause it  seemed  to  please  Abigail.  I  asked  her  what  were  the  salient  features 
of  the  English  ivy.  What  did  the  English  ivy  do  ?  What  might  be  its  spe- 
cialty? Mrs.  Adams  said  that  it  made  a  specialty  of  climbing.  It  was  a 
climber  from  away  back.  "All  right,"  I  then  to  her  did  straightway  say,  "let 
her  climb.  It  was  a  good  early  climber.  It  climbed  higher  than  Jack's  bean- 
stalk. It  climbed  the  golden  stair.  Most  of  our  plants  are  actively  engaged  in 
descending  the  cellar  stairs  or  in  ascending  the  golden  stair  most  all  the  time, 

I  descended  the  stairs  with  the  oleander  this  morning,  though  the  oleander 
got  there  a  little  more  previously  than  I  did.  Parties  desiring  a  good,  second- 
hand oleander  tub,  with  castors  on  it,  will  do  well  to  give  us  a  call  before  go- 

(254) 


JOHN   ADAMS'    DIAKY.  255 

ing  elsewhere.  Purchasers  desiring  a  good  set  of  second-hand  ear  muffs  for 
tulips  will  find  something  to  tlieir  advantage  by  addressing  the  subscriber. 

We  also  have  tAvo  very  highly  ornamental  green  dogoods  for  ivy  vines  to 
ramble  over.  We  could  be  induced  to  sell  these  dogoods  at  a  sacrifice,  in  order 
to  make  room  for  our  large  stock  of  new  and  attractive  dogoods.  These  arti- 
cles are  as  good  as  ever.  We  bought  them  during  the  panic  last  fall  for  our  vines 
to  climb  over,  but,  as  our  vines  died  of  membranous  croup  in  November,  these 
dogoods  still  remain  unclum.  ^I^^^^econd-hand  dirt  always  on  hand.  Orna- 
mental geranium  stumps  at  bed-rock  prices.  Highest  cash  prices  paid  for 
slips  of  black-and-tan  foliage  plants.  We  are  headquarters  for  the  century 
plant  that  draws  a  salary  for  ninety-nine  years  and  then  dies. 

I  do  not  feel  much  like  writing  in  my  diary  to-day,  but  the  physician  says 
tliat  my  arm  will  be  better  in  a  day  or  two,  so  that  it  will  be  more  of  a  pleasure  to 
do  business. 

We  are  still  without  a  servant  girl,  so  I  do  some  of  the  cooking.  I  make 
a  fire  each  day  and  boil  the  teakettle.  People  who  have  tried  my  boiled  tea- 
kettle say  it  is  very  fine. 

Some  of  my  friends  have  asked  me  to  run  for  the  Legislature  here  next 
election.  Somehow  I  feel  that  I  might,  in  public  life,  rise  to  distinction  some 
day,  and  perhaps  at  some  future  time  figure  prominently  in  the  affairs  of  a 
one-horse  republic  at  a  good  salary. 

I  have  never  done  anything  in  the  statesman  line,  but  it  does  not  look  diffi- 
cult to  me.  It  occurs  to  me  that  success  in  public  life  is  the  result  of  a 
union  of  severffl  great  primary  elements,  to-wit : 

Firstly — Ability  to  whoop  in  a  felicitous  manner. 

Secondly — Promptness  in  improving  the  proper  moment  in  whicli  to  whoop. 

Thirdly — Ready  and  correct  decision  in  the  matter  of  which  side  to  whoop  on. 

Fourthly — Ability  to  cork  up  the  whoop  at  the  j)roper  moment  and  keep  it 
in  a  cool  place  till  needed. 

And  this  last  is  one  of  the  most  important  of  all.  It  is  the  amateur  states- 
man who  talks  the  most.  Fearing  that  he  will  conceal  his  identity  as  a  fool, 
he  babbles  in  conversation  and  slashes  around  in  his  shallow  banks  in  public. 

As  soon  as  I  get  the  house  plants  down  cellar  and  get  their  overshoes  on 
for  the  winter,  I  will  more  seriously  consider  the  question  of  our  political  affairs 
here  in  this  new  land  where  we  have  to  tie  our  scalps  on  at  night  and  where 
every  summer  is  an  Indian  summer. 


Jot^Q  /^da/T)$'  Diary. 


(No.  3.) 

^^ECEMBER  10. — I  have  put  in  a  long  and  exhausting  day  in  the  court 
jjm  to-day  in  the  case  of  Merkins  vs.  Merkins,  a  suit  for  divorce  in  which  I 
^       am  the  counsel  for  the  plaintiff,  Eliza  J,  Merkins, 

The  case  itself  is  a  peculiarly  trying  one,  and  the  plaintiff  adds  to 
its  horrors  by  consulting  me  when  I  want  to  do  something  else.  I  took  her 
case  at  an  agreed  price,  and  so  Mrs.  Merkins  is  trying  to  get  her  money's 
worth  by  consulting  me  in  a  way  I  abhor.  She  has  consulted  me  in  every 
mood  and  tense  that  I  know  of;  at  my  office,  on  the  street,  in  church,  at  the 
festive  board  and  at  different  funerals  to  which  we  both  happened  to  be  called. 
Mrs.  Merkins  has  hung  like  a  pall  over  several  Massachusetts  funerals  which 
otherwise  had  every  symptom  of  success. 

I  am  a  great  admirer  of  woman  as  a  woman,  but  as  a  client  in  a  suit  for 
divorce  she  has  her  peculiarities.  I  have  seen  Eliza  in  every  phase  of  the 
case.  She  has  been  calm  and  tearful,  stormy  and  snorting,  low-spirited  and 
red-nosed,  violent  and  menacing,  resigned  but  sobby,  trustful  and  confidential, 
high  strung  and  haughty,  crushed  and  weepy. 

She  makes  a  specialty  of  shedding  the  red-hot  scalding  tear  wherever  she 
can  obtain  permission  to  do  so.  She  has  wept  in  my  wood-box,  in  my  new 
spittoon,  on  my  desk  and  on  my  birthday,  I  told  her  that  I  wished  she  would 
please  weep  on  something  else.  There  were  enough  objects  in  nature  upon 
which  a  poor  woman  who  wept  constantly  and  had  no  other  visible  means  of 
support  could  shed  the  wild  torrents  of  her  grief,  without  weeping  on  my  anni- 
versary. A  man  wants  to  keep  his  birthday  as  dry  as  possible.  He  hates  to 
have  it  wept  on  by  a  client  who  has  jewed  him  down  to  half  price,  and  then 
insisted  on  coming  in  to  sob  with  him  in  the  morning  before  he  has  swept  the 
office  floor. 

One  time  she  came  and  sobbed  on  my  shoulder.  Her  tears  are  of  the  warm, 
damp  kind,  and  feel  disagreeable  as  they  roll  down  the  neck  of  a  comparative 
stranger,  who  never  can  be  aught  but  a  friend.  She  rested  her  bonnet  on  my 
bosom  while  she  wept,  and  I  then  discovered  that  she  has  been  in  the  habit  of 
wearing  this  bonnet  while  cooking  her  buckwheat  pancakes.     I  presume  she 

(256) 


JOHN    ADAMS     DIARY. 


257 


A    TENDER    CASE. 


keeps  her  bonnet  on  all  the  time,  so  that  she  may  be  ready  to  dash  out  and  con- 
sult me  at  all  times  without  delay.  Still,  she  ought  not  to  do  it,  for  when  she 
leans  her  head  on  the  bosom  of  her  coun- 
sel in  order  to  consult  him,  he  detects  the 
odor  of  the  early  sausage  and  the  fleeting 
pancake. 

You  may  btist  such  a  bonnet  and  crush  it  if  you 

will, 
But  the  scent  of  the  pancake  will  cling  round  it 

still. 

As  soon  as  I  saw  that  her  object  was 
to  lean  up  against  me  and  not  only  con- 
vulse herself  with  sobs,  but  that  she  in- 
tended to  jar  me  also  with  her  great  woe, 
I  told  her  that  I  would  have  to  request  her 
to  avaunt.  I  then,  as  she  did  not  act  upon  my 
suggestion,  avaunted  her  myself.  I  avaunt- 
ed  her  into  a  chair  with  a  sickening  thud. 

She  then  burst  forth  in  a  torrent  of  vituperation.  When  the  abnormal 
sobber  is  suddenly  corked  up,  these  sobs  rankle  in  the  system  and  burst  forth 
in  the  shape  of  vituperation.  In  the  course  of  her  remarks,  she  stated  in  a  vio- 
lent manner  that  she  would  denounce  me  throughout  the  country  and  retain  other 
counsel.  I  told  her  I  wished  she  would,  as  my  sympathies  were  with  Mr. 
Merkins.  I  told  her  that  she  must  either  pay  me  a  larger  fee  or  I  should  in- 
sist on  her  weeping  in  the  alley  before  she  came  up. 

She  then  took  her  departure  with  a  rising  inflection.  On  the  following 
day,  however,  I  found  her  at  the  oflice  door,  and  she  stood  near  and  consulted 
me  again,  while  I  took  up  the  ashes  and  started  a  fire  in  the  stove. 

Her  case  is  quite  peculiar. 

She  wants  a  divorce  from  her  husband  on  the  grounds  of  cruelty  to  ani- 
mals, or  something  of  that  kind,  and  when  she  first  told  me  about  it  I  thought 
she  had  a  case,  but  when  we  came  to  trial  I  found  that  she  had  had  every  rea- 
son to  believe  that  if  she  could  be  segregated  from  Mr.  Merkins  she  could  at 
once  become  the  bride  of  a  gentleman  who  ploughed  the  raging  main. 

Just  as  we  went  to  the  jury  to-day  with  the  case,  she  heard  casually  that 
the  gentleman  who  had  been  in  the  main-ploughing  business  had  just  married 
without  her  knowleds^e  or  consent. 


"j^eap  BraiQ." 


^^;SA\^:*/'''V,^XTCH  trouble  lias  l)oen  done  by  a 


long  haired  phrenologist  in  the 
'^    West  who  has,   during  his  life,  felt  of    over  a  hundred  thousand 
heads.     A  comparison  of  a  large  number  of  charts  given  in  these 
cases  shows  that  so  far  no  head  examined  Avould  indicate  anything 
less  tlian  a  member  of  the  lower  house  of  congress.      Artists,  orators,  prima- 

donnas  and  statesmen  are  plenty,  but  there  are  no 
charts  showing  the  natural-born  farmer,  carpenter, 
shoemaker  or  chambermaid. 

That  is  the  reason  butter  is  so  high  west  of  the 
Missouri  river  to-day,  while  genius  actually  runs 
riot. 

What  this  day  and  age  of  the  world  needs,  is  a 
phrenologist  who  will  paw  around  among  the  intel- 
lectual domes  of  free-born  American  citizens,  and 
search  out  a  few  men  w^ho  can  milk  a  cow  in  a  cool 
and  unimpassioned  tone  of  voice. 

It  is  true  that  every  man  in  America  is  a  sover- 
eign, but  he  had  better  not  overdo  it.     The  man  who 
sits  up  nights  to  be  a  sovereign  and  allows  the  calves 
to  eat  his  brown-eyed  beans,  is  not  leading  his  fel- 
A  FUTURE  PEESIDENT.     j^^^  ^^^^  ^^^  ^^  ^  higher  and  nobler  life.     The  sover- 
eign business  can  be  run  in  the  ground  if  we  are  not  careful. 

Very  likely  the  white-eyed  boy  with  the  hickory  dado  along  the  base  of  his 
overalls  is  the  boy  who  in  future  years  is  to  be  the  president  of  the  United 
States.  But  do  not,  oh,  do  not  trow,  fair  young  reader,  that  every  Albino 
youth  in  our  broad  land  who  wears  an  isosceles  triangle  in  navy  blue  flannel 
athwart  his  system,  is  going  to  be  the  chief  magistrate  of  this  mighty  republic. 
We  need  statesmen  and  orators  and  artists  very  much ;  ])ut  the  world  at 
this  moment  also  needs  several  athletic  parties  with  the  horse-sense  adequate 
to  produce  flour  and  other  vegetables  necessary  to  feed  the  aforesaid  states- 
men, orators,  etc.,  etc. 

(258) 


"HEAP    BRAIN."  259 

Let  me  say  a  word  to  the  briglit-eyed  youth  of  America,  Let  me  murmur 
in  your  ear  this  never  dying  trutli:  When  a  long-haired  crank  asks  you  a 
dollar  to  tell  you,  you  are  a  young  Demosthenes,  stand  up  and  look  yourself 
over  at  a  distance  before  you  swallow  it  all. 

There  is  no  use  talking,  we  have  got  to  procure  provisions  in  some  manner, 
and  in  order  to  do  so  the  natural-born  bone  and  muscle  of  the  country  must 
go  at  and  promote  the  growth  of  such  things,  or  else  we  artists,  poets  and 
statesmen,  will  have  to  take  off  our  standing  collars  and  do  it  ourselves. 

Phrenology  is  a  good  thing,  no  doubt,  if  we  can  purify  it.  So  long  as  it 
does  not  become  the  slave  of  capital,  there  is  nothing  about  phrenology  that  is 
going  to  do  harm ;  but  when  it  becomes  the  creature  of  the  trade  dollar,  it 
looks  as  though  the  country  would  be  filled  up  with  w^ild-eyed  genius  that 
hasn't  had  a  square  meal  for  two  weeks.  The  time  will  siirely  come  when 
America  will  demand  less  statesmanship  and  more  flour ;  when  less  statistics 
and  a  purer,  nobler  and  more  progressive  style  of  beefsteak  will  demand  our 
attention. 

I  had  hoped  that  phrenology  would  step  in  and  start  this  reform ;  but  so 
far  it  has  not,  within  the  range  of  my  observation.  It  may  be,  however,  that 
the  mental  giant  bump  translator  with  whom  I  came  in  contract  was  not  a  fair 
representative.  Still,  he  has  been  in  the  business  for  over  thirty  years,  and 
some  of  our  most  polished  criminals  have  passed  under  his  hands. 

An  erroneous  phrenologist  once  told  me  that  I  would  shine  as  a  revivalist, 
and  said  that  I  ought  to  marry  a  tall  blonde  with  a  nervous,  sanguinary  tem- 
perament. Then  he  said,  "One  dollar,  please,"  and  I  said,  "All  right,  gentle 
scientist  with  the  tawny  mane,  I  will  give  you  the  dollar  and  marry  the  tall 
l)londe  with  the  bank  account  and  bilious  temperament,  when  you  give  me  a 
chart  showing  me  how  to  dispose  of  a  brown-eyed  brunette  with  a  thoughtful 
cast  of  countenance,  who  married  me  in  an  unguarded  moment  two  years  ago," 

He  looked  at  me  in  a  reproachful  kind  of  way,  struck  at  me  with  a  chair  in 
an  absent-minded  manner  and  stole  away. 


Jf^e  f\pproae\)\r)(^  jHamorist. 

^HE  following  letter  has  been  received,  and,  as  it  encloses  no  unsmirched 
postage  stamp  to  insure  a  private  reply,   I  take  great  pleasure    in 
answering  it  in  these  pages: 
W^  Christiana,  Kas.,  Sept.  22nd,  1884. 

Dear  Sir. — I  am  studying  for  a  Humorist.     Could  you  help  me  to  some 
of  the  JoLiEST  Books  that  are  written  ?     AVith  some  of  the  best  Jokes  of  the 
Day  &c  &c  &c, 
I    Also  what  it  would  be  best  for  me  to  do  for  to  become  an  Humorist 

I  am  said  to  be  a  Natural  Born  Humorist  by  my  friends  and  all  I  need  is 
Cultivation  to  make  my  mark 
Please  reply  by  return  mail 

Kindly  Yours  Herman  A.  H. 

For  some  time  I  have  been  grieving  over  the  dearth  of  humor  in  America, 
and  wondering  who  the  great  coming  humorist  was  to  be.  Several  papers  have 
already  deplored  the  lack  of  humor  in  our  land,  but  they  have  not  been  able  to 
put  their  finger  on  the  approaching  humorist  of  the  age.  Just  as  we  had  begun 
to  despair,  however,  here  he  comes,  quietly  and  unostentatiously,  modestly  and 
ungrammatically.  Unheralded  and  silently,  like  Maud  S.  or  any  other  eminent 
man,  he  slowly  rises  above  the  Kansas  horizon,  and  tells  us  that  it  will  be 
impossible  to  conceal  his  identity  any  longer.  He  is  the  approaching  humorist 
of  the  nineteenth  century. 

It  is  a  serious  matter,  Herman,  to  prescribe  a  course  of  study  that  will  be 
exactly  what  you  need  to  bring  you  out.  Perhaps  you  might  do  well  to  take  a 
Kindergarten  course  in  spelling  and  the  rudiments  of  grammar;  still,  that  is 
not  absolutely  necessary.  A  friend  of  mine  named  Billings  has  done  well  as 
a  humorist,  though  his  knowledge  of  spelling  seems  to  be  pitiably  deficient. 
Grammar  is  convenient  where  a  humorist  desires  to  put  on  style  or  show  off 
before  crowned  heads,  but  it  is  not  absolutely  indispensable. 

Regarding  the  "Joliest  Books"  necessary  for  your  perusal,  In  order  to 
chisel  your  name  on  the  eternal  tablets  of  fame,  tastes  will  certainly  differ.     I 

(260) 


THE   APPROACHING   HUMORIST. 


261 


am  almost  sorry  that  you  wrote  to  me,  because  we  might  not  agree.  You  write 
like  one  of  these  "  Joly"  humorists  such  as  people  employ  to  go  along  with  a 
picnic  and  be  the  life  of  the  party,  and  whose  presence  throughout  the  country 
has  been  so  depressing.  If  one  may  be  allowed  to  judge  of  your  genius  by  the 
few  autograph  lines  forwarded,  you  belong  to  that  class  of  brain-workers  upon 
whom  devolves  the  solemn  duty  of  pounding  sand.  If  you  are  really  a  brain- 
worker,  will  you  kindly  inform  the  writer  whose  brain  you  are  working  now, 
and  how  you  like  it  as  far  as  you  have  gone  ? 

American  humor  has  burst  forth  from  all  kinds  of  places,  nearly.  The 
various  professions  have  done  their  share.  One  has  risen  from  a  tramp  until 
he  is  wealthy  and  dyspeptic,  and  another  was  blown  up  on  a  steamboat  before 
he  knew  that  he  was  a  humorist. 

Suppose  you  try  that,  Herman.  M.  Quad,  one  of  the  very  successful 
humorists  of  the  day,  both  in  a  literary  and  financial  way,  was  blown  up  by  a 
steamboat  before  he  bloomed  forth  into  the  full  flush  and  power  of  success. 
Try  that,  Herman.  It  is  a  severe  test,  but  it  is  bound  to  be  a  success.  Even 
if  it  should  be  disastrous  to  you,  it  will  be  rich  in  its  beneficial  results  to  those 
who  escape. 


■\ 


t  ^ 


U/l7at  U/e  (^at. 


jN  3d  street,  St.  Paul,  tliere  stands  a  restaurant  that  lias  outside  as  a 
sign,  under  a  glass  case,  a  rib  roast,  a  slice  of  ham  and  a  roast  duck 
that  I  remembered  distinctly  having  seen  there  in  1860  and  be- 
^^^  fore  the  war.  I  asked  an  epicure  the  other  day  if  he  thought  it 
right  to  keep  those  things  there  year  after  year  when  so  many  were  starving 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  He  then  straightway  did  take 
me  up  close  so  that  I  could  see  that  the  food  was  made  of  plaster  and  painted, 
as  hereinbefore  set  forth  and  by  me  translated,  as  Walt  Whitman  would  say. 

A  day  or  two  afterward,  at  a  rural  hotel,  I  struck  some  of  that  same  roast 
beef  and  ham.  I  thought  that  the  sign  had  been  put  on  the  table  by  mistake, 
and  I  made  bold  to  tell  the  proprietor  about  it,  on  the  ground  that  "  any  neglect 
or  impertinence  on  the  part  of  servants  should  be  reported  at  the  office."  He 
received  the  information  with  great  rudeness  and  a  most  disagreeable  air. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  guests  who  live  at  the  average  hotel.  One  is  the 
party  who  gets  up  and  walks  over  the  whole  corps  cle  hote,  from  the  bald- 
headed  proprietor  to  the  bootblack,  while  the  other  is  the  meek  and  mild-eyed 
man,  doomed  to  sit  at  the  table  and  bewail  the  flight  of  time  and  the  horrors 
of  staiwation  while  waiting  for  the  relief  party  to  come  with  his  food. 

I  belong  to  the  latter  class.  Born,  as  I  was,  in  a  private  family,  and  early 
acquiring  the  habit  of  eating  food  that  was  intended  to  assuage  hunger  mostly, 
it  takes  me  a  good  while  to  accustom  myself  to  the  style  of  dyspeptic  microbe 
used  simply  to  ornament  a  bill  of  fare.  Of  course  it  is  maintained  by  some 
hotel  men  that  food  solely  for  eating  purposes  is  becoming  obsolete  and  outre, 
and  that  the  stuff  they  put  on  their  bills  of  fare  is  just  as  good  to  j)Our  down 
the  back  of  a  guest  as  diet  that  is  cooked  for  the  common,  low,  perverted  taste 
of  people  who  have  no  higher  aspiration  than  to  eat  their  food. 

Of  course  the  genial,  urbane  and  talented  reader  will  see  at  once 
the  style  of  hotel  I  am  referring  to.  It  is  the  hotel  that  apes  the 
good  hotel  and  prints  a  bill  of  fare  solely  as  a  literary  effort.  That  is  the 
hotel  where  you  find  the  moth-eaten  towel  and  the  bed-ridden  coffee.     There 

(262) 


WHAT   WE   EAT.  263 

is  where  you  get  butter  that  runs  the  elevator  clay  times  and  sleeps  on  the 
flannel  cakes  at  night. 

It  is  there  that  you  meet  the  weary  and  way-worn  steak  that  bears  the 
toothprints  of  other  guests  who  are  now  in  a  land  where  the  early-rising  cham- 
bermaid cannot  enter. 

I  also  refer  to  the  hotel  where  the  bellboy  is  simply  an  animated  polisher 
of  banisters,  and  otherwise  extremely  useless.  It  is  likewise  the  house  where 
the  syrup  tastes  like  tincture  of  rhubarb,  and  the  pancakes  taste  like  a  hekto- 
gra})h. 

The  traveling  man  will  call  to  mind  the  hotel  to  which  I  refer,  and  he  will 
instantly  name  it  and  tell  you  that  he  has  never  spent  the  Sabbath  there. 

I  honestly  believe  that  some  hotel  men  lose  money  and  custom  by  trying 
to  issue  a  large  blanket-sheet  bill  of  fare  every  day,  when  a  more  modest  list 
containing  two  or  three  things  that  a  human  being  could  eat  with  impunity 
would  be  far  more  acceptable,  healthy  and  remunerative. 

Some  people  can  live  on  cracked  wheat,  bran  and  skimmed  milk,  no  matter 
where  they  go,  and  so  they  always  seem  to  be  perfectly  happy ;  but,  while  sim- 
plicity is  my  watchword,  and  while  I  am  Old  Simplicity  himself,  as  it  were, 
I  haven't  been  constructed  with  stomachs  enough  to  successfully  wrestle  with 
these  things.  I  like  a  few  plain  dishes  with  victuals  on  them,  cooked  by  a  per- 
son who  has  had  some  experience  in  that  line  before.  I  am  not  so  especially 
tied  to  high  prices  and  finger-bowls,  for  I  have  risen  from  the  common  people, 
and  during  the  first  eighteen  years  of  my  life  I  had  to  dress  myself.  I  was 
not  always  the  pampered  child  of  enervating  luxury  that  I  now  am,  by  any 
means.  So  I  can  subsist  for  weeks  on  good,  plain  food,  and  never  murmur  or 
repine ;  but  where  the  mistake  at  some  hotels  seems  to  have  been  made,  is  in 
trying  to  issue  a  bill  of  fare  every  day  that  will  attract  the  attention  of  literary 
minds  and  excite  the  curiosity  of  linguists  instead  of  people  who  desire  to 
assuage  an  internal  craving  for  grub. 

I  use  the  term  grub  in  its  broadest  and  most  comprehensive  sense. 

So,  if  I  may  take  the  liberty  to  do  so,  let  me  exhort  the  landlord  who  is 
gradually  accumulating  indebtedness  and  remorse,  to  use  a  plainer,  less  elabor- 
ate, but  more  edible  list  of  refreshments.  Otherwise  his  guests  will  all  die 
young. 

Let  him  discard  the  seamless  waffle  and  the  kiln-dried  hen.  Let  him 
abstain  from  the  debris  known  as  cottage  pudding,  that  being  its  alias,  while 


264  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

the  doctors  recognize  it  as  old  Gastric  Disturbance.  Too  much  of  our  hotel 
food  tastes  like  the  second  day  of  January  or  the  fifth  day  of  July.  That's 
the  Avhole  thing  in  a  few  words,  and  unless  the  good  hotels  are  nearer  together 
we  shall  have  to  multiply  our  cemetery  facilities. 

Poor  hotels  are  responsible  for  lots  of  drunkards  every  year.  The  only 
time  I  am  tempted  to  soak  my  sorrows  in  rum  is  after  I  have  read  a  delusive 
bill  of  fare  and  eaten  a  broiled  barn-hinge  with  gravy  on  it  that  tasted  like 
the  broth  of  perdition.  It  is  then  that  the  demon  of  intemperance  and  colic 
comes  to  me  and,  in  siren  tones,  says:  "Try  our  bourbon,  with  'Polly  Narius' 
on  the  side." 


Qar<^  of  J^OiJ$<?  piaptj. 

^^^\  TERN  winter  is  the  season  in  wliicli  to  keep  the  eye  peeled  for  the  frag- 
^^^f  il©  little  house  plant.  It  is  at  that  time  that  the  coarse  and  brutal 
husband  carries  the  Scandinavian  flower  known  as  the  Ole  Ander,  part 
^ "  way  down  the  cellar,  and  allows  it  to  fall  the  rest  of  the  way.  I  carried 
a  large  Ole  Ander  up  and  down  stairs  for  nine  years,  until  the  spring  of  1880. 
That  was  rather  a 
backward  spring,  and 
a  pale  red  cow,  with 
one  horn  done  up  in 
a  French  twist,  ate 
the  most  of  it  as  it 
stood  on  the  porch. 

This  cow  was  a 
total  stranger  to  me. 
I  had  never  done 
anything  for  her  by 
which  to  win  her  es- 
teem. It  shows  how 
Providence  works 
through  the  humblest 
means  sometimes  to 
accomplish  a  great 
good. 

I  have  tried  many 
times  to  find  the 
postoffice  address  of 
that  lonely  cow,  so  I  might  comfort  her  declining  years,  but  she  seemed  to 
have  melted  away  into  the  bosom  of  space,  for  I  cannot  find  her.  Anyone 
knowing  the  whereabouts  of  a  pale  red  cow,  with  one  horn  done  up  in  a  French 
twist,  and  wearing  a  look  of  settled  melancholy,  will  please  communicate  the 

(265) 


~  .  ^^iTrik^ 


CARRYING  OUT  THE  OLE  ANDER. 


200 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


same  to  me,  as  we  have  another  Ole  Ander  that  will  just  about  fit  her,  I  think, 
by  spring. 

Bulbs  may  be  wrapped  in  cotton  and  put  in  a  cool  place  in  the  fall,  and  fed 
to  the  domestic  animals  in  the  spring.  Geraniums  should  put  on  their  buffalo 
overcoats  about  the  middle  of  November  in  our  rigid  northern  clime,  and  in 
the  spring  they  will  have  the  same  luxuriant  foliage  as  the  tropical  hat-rack. 
Vines  may  be  left  in  the  room  during  the  winter  until  the  furnace  slips  a  cog 
and  then  you  can  pull  them  down  and  feed  them  to  the  family  horses.  In 
changing  your  plants  from  the  living  rooms  or  elsewhere  to  the  cellar  in  the 
fall,  take  great  care  to  avoid  injury  to  the  pot.  I  have  experienced  some  very 
severe  winters  in  my  life,  but  I  have  never  seen  the  mercury  so  low  that  a  flower- 
pot couldn't  struggle  through  and  look  fresh  and  robust  in  the  spring.  The 
longevity  of  the  pot  is  surprising  when  we  consider  how  much  death  there  is  all 
about  it.  I  had  a  large  brown  flower-pot  once  that  originally  held  the  germ 
of  a  calla  lily.     This  lily  emerged  from  the  soil  with  the  light  of  immortality 


WREAKING   VENGEANCE. 


in  its  eye.  It  got  up  to  where  we  began  to  be  attached  to  it,  and  then  it  died. 
Then  we  put  a  plant  in  its  place  which  was  given  us  by  a  friend.  I  do  not 
remember  now  what  this  plant  was  called,  but  I  know  it  Avas  sent  to  us  wrapped 


CARE  OF  HOUSE  PLANTS.  267 

up  in  a  piece  of  moist  brown  paper,  and  half  an  hour  later  a  dray  drove  up  to 
the  house  with  the  name  of  the  plant  itself.  In  the  summer  it  required  very 
little  care,  and  in  the  winter  I  would  cover  the  little  thing  up  with  its  name, 
and  it  would  be  safe  till  spring.  One  evening  we  had  a  free-for-all  musicale 
at  my  house,  and  a  corpulent  friend  of  mine  tried  to  climb  it,  and  it  died. 
(Tried  to  climb  the  plant,  not  the  mii^iccdc.)  The  plant  yielded  to  the  severe 
climb  it.  This  joke  now  makes  its  debut  for  the  first  time  before  the  world. 
Anyone  who  feels  offended  with  this  joke  may  wreak  his  vengeance  on  a  friend 
of  mine  named  Sullivan,  who  is  passionately  fond  of  having  people  wreak 
their  vengeance  on  him.  People  having  a  large  amount  of  unwreaked  venge- 
ance on  hand  will  do  well  to  give  him  a  call  before  purchasing  elsewhere. 


f\  p(^ae(^abl<?  /T\a9. 


[LL  L.  YISSCHER  always  made  a  specialty  o£  being  a  peaceable 
\im    man.     He  would  make  most  any  sacrifice  in  order  to  secure  general 
I'l    amnesty.     IVe  known  liim  to  go  around  six  blocks  out  o£  his  way, 
to  avoid  a  stormy  interview  with  a  belligerant  dog.     He  was  always 
very  tender-hearted  about  dogs,  especially  the  open-faced  bulldog. 

But  he  had  a  queer  experience  years  ago,  in  St.  Jo,  Missouri.  He  had 
been  city  editor  of  the  Kansas  City  Journal  for  some  time,  but  one  evening, 
while  in  the  composing-room,  the  foreman  told  him  that  the  place  for  the  city 
editor  was  down  stairs,  in  his  office.  He  therefore  ordered  Visscher  to  go 
down  there.  Visscher  said  he  would  do  so  later  on,  after  he  got  fatigued  with 
the  composing-room  and  wanted  change  of  scene. 

The  foreman  thereupon  jumped  on  Mr.  Yisscher  with  a  small  pica  wrought 
iron  side  stick.  Visscher  allowed  that  he  was  a  peaceable  man,  but  entered 
into  the  general  chaos  of  double-leaded  editorial,  and  hair  and  brass  dashes, 
and  dashes  for  liberty  and  heterogeneous  "pi,"  and  foot-sticks  and  teeth,  with 
great  zeal.  He  succeeded  in  putting  a  large  doric  head  on  the  foreman,  and 
although  he  was  a  peaceable  man,  he  went  down  to  the  office  and  got  his  dis- 
charge for  disturbing  the  discipline  of  the  ofiice. 

He  went  to  St.  Jo  the  same  day,  and  celebrated  his  debut  into  the  town  by 
a  little  game  of  what  is  known  as  "draw."  He  was  fortunate  in  "filling  his 
hand,"  and  while  he  was  taking  in  the  stakes,  a  young  man  from  Arkansas, 
who  was  in  the  game,  nipped  a  two-dollar  note  in  a  quiet  kind  of  way,  which, 
however,  was  detected  by  Mr.  V.,  who  mentioned  the  matter  at  the  time.  This 
maddened  the  Arkansas  man,  and  later  on  he  put  one  of  his  long  arms  around 
Mr.  Visscher  so  as  to  pinion  him,  and  then  smote  him  across  the  brow  with  an  in- 
strument, known  to  science  as  "the  brass  knucks."  This  irritated  Mr.  Visscher, 
and  as  soon  as  he  had  returned  to  consciousness  he  remarked  that,  although 
it  was  rather  an  up-hill  job  in  Missouri,  he  was  trying  to  be  a  peaceable  man. 
He  then  broke  the  leg  of  a  card-table  over  the  head  of  the  Arkansas  man,  and 
went  to  the  doctor  to  get  his  own  brow  sewed  on  again. 

(268) 


A   PEACEABLE   MAN. 


269 


While  lie  was  sitting  in  the  doctor's  office  a  friend  of  the  Arkansas  man 
came  in  and  asked  him  to  please  stand  up  while  he  knocked  him  down.  Viss- 
cher  opened  a  little  dialogue  with  the  man,  and  drew  him  into  conversation  till 
he  could  open  a  case  of  surgical  instruments  near  by,  then  he  took  out  one  of 
those  knives  that  the  surgeons  use  in  removing  the  viscera  from  the  leading 
gentleman  at  a  post  mortem. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  sharpening  the  knife  on  the  stove-pipe  and  handing  down 
a  jar  containing  alcohol  with  a  tumor  in  it,  "I  am  a  peaceful  man  and  don't 
want  any  fuss ;  but  if  you  insist  on  a  personal  encounter,  I  will  slice  off  frag- 
ments of  your  physiognomy  at  my  leisure,  and  for  twenty  minutes  I  will  fill 
this  office  with  your  favorite  features.  I  make  a  specialty  of  being  a  peaceable 
man,  remember;  but  if  you'll  just  say  the  word,  I'll  put  overcoat  button-holes 
and  eyelet-holes  and  crazy -quilts  all  over  your  system.  If  I've  got  to  kill  off 
the  poker-players  of  St.  Jo  before  I  can 
have  any  fun,  I  guess  I  might  as  well  be- 
in  on  you  as  on  any  one  I  know." 

He  then  made  a  stab  at  the  man  and 
pinned  his  coat-tail  to  the  door-frame. 
Fear  loaned  the  bad  man  strength,  and, 

splitting  the  coat-tail,  he  fled,  taking  little 

mementoes  of  the  tumor-jar  and  shedding 

them  in  his  flight. 

When  Mr.    Visscher  went  up  to   the 

Herald  office  soon  after  to  get  a  job,  he 

was  introduced  casually  to  the  foreman, 

who  said: 

"  Ah,  this  is  the  young  man  who  licks 

the  foreman  of  the  paper  he  works  on,  is 

it?     I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Visscher. 

I  am  looking  for  a  white-eyed  son  of  a  sea- 
cook    M^ho    goes    around    over     Missouri 

thumping  the  foremen  of  our  leading  journals 

Mr.  Visscher,  till  I  jar  your  back  teeth  loose  and  send  you  to  the  morgue  in 

a  gunny-sack."     Mr.  Visscher  repeated  that  he  was  trying  to  live  in  Missouri 

and  be  a  peceable  man,  but  that  if  there  was  anything  that  he  could  do  to 

make  it  pleasant  for  the  foreman,  he  would  cheerfully  do  it. 


HE   WAS    A   PEACEABLE    MAN. 

Come  out  into  the  ante-room, 


270  REMARKS   BY    BILL    NYE. 

Mr.  Visscher  was  a  small  man,  but  when  he  felt  aggrieved  about  anything 
he  was  very  harassing  to  his  adversary.  They  "  clinched  "  and  threw  each 
other  back  and  forth  across  the  hall  with  great  vigor.  When  they  stopped  for 
breath,  the  foreman's  coat  was  pulled  over  his  head  and  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Yiss- 
cher's  shirt  was  hanging  on  the  gas-jet.  There  were  also  two  front  teeth  on 
the  floor  unaccounted  for. 

Visscher  pinned  on  his  shirt-bosom  and  said  he  was  a  peaceable  man,  but  if 
the  custom  seemed  to  demand  four  fights  in  one  day,  he  would  try  to  conform 
to  any  local  usage  of  the  city.  Wherever  he  went,  he  wanted  to  fall  right  into 
line  and  be  one  of  the  party. 

When  he  got  well  he  was  employed  on  the  Herald,  and  for  four  years  edited 
the  amnesty  column  of  the  paper  successfully. 


Bio(^rapt7y  of  Spartaeu$. 

il^^l  PAETACUS,  whose  given  name  seems  to  have  been  torn  off  in  its  pas- 
'J^v  sage  down  through  the  corridors  of  time,  was  born  in  Thrace  and  edu- 
ll^yj)  cated  as  a  shepherd.  While  smearing  the  noses  of  the  young  lambs  with 
"^  tar  one  spring,  in  order  to  prevent  the  snuffies  among  them,  he  thought 
that  he  would  become  a  robber.  It  occurred  to  him  that  this  calling  was  the 
only  one  he  knew  of  that  seemed  to  be  open  to  the  young  man  without  means. 

He  had  hardly  got  started,  however,  in  the  "hold  up"  industry,  when  he 
was  captured  by  the  Romans,  sold  at  cost  and  trained  as  a  gladiator,  in  a  school 
at  Capua.  Here  he  succeeded  in  stirring  up  a  conspiracy  and  uniting  two 
hundred  or  more  of  the  grammar  department  of  the  school  in  a  general  ruc- 
tion, as  it  was  then  termed. 

The  scheme  was  discovered  and  only  seventy  of  the  number  escaped, 
headed  by  Spartacus.  These  snatched  cleavers  from  the  butcher  shops,  pick- 
ets from  the  Roman  fences  and  various  other  weapons,  and  with  them  fought 
their  way  to  the  foot  hill  where  they  met  a  wagon  train  loaded  with  arms  and 
supplies.  They  secured  the  necessary  weapons  whereby  to  go  into  a  general 
war  business  and  established  themselves  in  the  crater  of  Mount  Vesuvius. 

Spartacus  was  a  man  of  wonderful  carriage  and  great  physical  strength. 
It  had  always  been  his  theory  that  a  man  might  as  well  die  of  old  age  as  to 
feed  himself  to  a  Roman  menagerie.  He  maintained  that  he  would  rather  die 
in  a  general  free  fight,  where  he  had  a  chance,  than  to  be  hauled  around  over 
the  arena  by  one  leg  behind  a  Numidian  lion. 

So  he  took  his  little  band  and  fought  his  way  to  Vesuvius.  There  they 
had  a  pleasant  time  camping  out  nights  and  robbing  the  Roman's  daytimes. 
The  excitement  of  sleeping  in  a  crater,  added  a  wonderful  charm  to  their  lives. 
"While  others  slept  cold  in  Capua,  Spartacus  cuddled  up  to  the  crater  and  kept 
comfortable. 

For  a  long  time  the  little  party  had  it  all  their  own  way.  They  sniffed  the 
air  of  freedom  and  lived  on  Roman  spring  chicken  on  the  half  shell,  and  it 
beat  the  arena  business  all  hollow. 

At  last,  however,  an  army  of  3,000  men  was  sent  against  them,  and  Spar- 
tacus awoke  one  morning  to  find  himself  blocked  up  in  his  crater.     For  a  time 

(271) 


272  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

the  outlook  was  not  cheering.  Spartacus  thought  of  telegraphing  the  war  de- 
partment for  reinforcements,  but  finally  decided  not  to  do  so. 

Finally,  with  ladders  made  of  wild  vines,  the  little  garrison  slipped  out 
through  what  had  seemed  an  impassable  fissure  in  the  crater,  got  in  the  rear 
of  the  army  and  demolished  it  completely.  That's  the  kind  of  man  that  Spar- 
tacus was.     Fighting  was  his  forte. 

Spartacus  was  also  a  good  public  speaker.  One  of  his  addresses  to  the 
gladiators  has  been  handed  down  to  posterity  through  the  medium  of  the 
Fifth  Reader,  a  work  that  should  be  in  every  household.  In  his  speech  he 
states  that  he  was  not  always  thus.  But  since  he  is  thus,  he  believes  that  he 
has  not  yet  been  successfully  outthussed  by  any  body. 

He  speaks  of  his  early  life  in  the  citron  groves  of  Syrsilla,  and  how  quiet 
and  reserved  he  had  been,  never  daring  to  say  "gosh"  within  a  mile  of  the 
house ;  but  finally  how  the  Bomans  landed  on  his  coast  and  killed  off  his 
family.  Then  he  desired  to  be  a  fighter.  He  had  killed  more  lions  than  any 
other  man  in  Italy.  He  kept  a  big  crew  of  Romans  busy,  winter  and  sum- 
mer, catching  fresh  lions  for  him  to  stick.  He  had  killed  a  large  number  of 
men  also.  At  one  matinee  for  ladies  and  children  he  had  killed  a  prominent 
man  from  the  north,  and  had  done  it  so  fluently  that  he  was  encored  three 
times.  The  stage  manager  then  came  forward  and  asked  that  the  audience 
would  please  refrain  from  another  encore  as  he  had  run  out  of  men,  but  if  the 
ladies  and  children  would  kindly  attend  on  the  following  Saturday  he  hoped 
to  be  prepared  with  a  good  programme.  In  fact,  he  had  just  heard  from  his 
agent  who  wrote  him  that  they  had  purchased  two  big  lions  and  also  had  a 
robust  gladiator  up  a  tree.  He  hoped  that  he  could  get  into  town  in  a  day  or 
two  with  both  attractions, 

Spartacus  finally  stood  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  100,000  men,  all  starting 
out  from  the  little  band  of  70  that  cut  loose  from  Capua  with  borrowed  cleavers 
and  axhandles.  This  war  lasted  but  two  years,  during  which  time  Spartacus 
made  Rome  howl.  Spartacus  had  too  much  sense  to  attack  Rome.  But  at  last 
his  army  was  betrayed  and  disorganized.  With  nothing  biit  death  or  capture 
for  him,  he  rode  out  between  the  two  contending  armies,  shot  his  war  horse  in 
order  to  save  expenses,  and  on  foot  rushed  into  the  thickest  of  the  fight.  This 
was  positively  his  last  appearance.  He  killed  a  large  number  of  people,  but 
at  last  he  yielded  to  the  great  pressure  that  was  brought  to  bear  upon  him  and 
died- 


BIOGKAPHY    OF   SPARTACUS.  273 

Probably  no  man  not  actually  engaged  in  the  practice  of  medicine  ever 
killed  so  many  people  as  Spartacus.  He  did  not  kill  them  because  he  disliked 
them  personally,  but  because  he  thought  it  advisable  to  do  so.  Had  he  lived 
till  the  present  time  he  would  have  done  well  as  a  lecturer.  "  Ten  Years  in 
the  Arena,  with  Illustrations,"  would  draw  first-rate  at  this  time  among  a  cer- 
tain class  of  people.  The  large  number  of  people  still  living  in  this  country, 
who  will  lay  aside  their  work  and  go  twenty  miles  to  attend  a  funeral,  no 
matter  whose  funeral  it  is,  would,  no  doubt,  enjoy  a  bull  fight  or  the  calm  and 
refining  joy  that  hovered  over  the  arena.  Those  who  have  paid  $175,000  to 
see  Colonel  John  L.  Sullivan  disfigure  a  friend,  would,  no  doubt,  have  made  it 
$350,000  if  the  victim  could  have  been  killed  and  dragged  around  over  the 
ring  by  the  leg. 

Two  thousand  years  have  not  refined  us  so  much  that  we  need  be  puffed  up 
with  false  pride  about  it. 


o-olden  stream  of  wealth  into  his  coffers. 


r.MATEUPt"  writes  me  that  he  is  about  to  publish  a  book,  and  asks 
me  if  I  will  be  kind  enough  to  suggest  some  good,  reliable  pub- 
lisher for  him. 

This  would  suggest  that  "Amateur"  wishes  to  confer  his  book 
on  some  deserving  publisher  with  a  view  to  building  him  up   and  pouring  a 

"Amateur"  already,  in  his  mind's 
eye,  sees  the  eager  millions  of  readers 
knocking  each  other  down  and  tramp- 
ling upon  one  another  in  the  mad  rush 
for  his  book.  In  my  mind,  I  see  his 
eye,  lighted  up  with  hope,  and,  though 
he  lives  in  New  Jersey,  I  fancy  I  can 
hear  his  quickened  breath  as  his  bosom 
heaves. 

Evidently  he  has  never  published  a 
book.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  fun 
ahead  of  him  that  he  does  not  wot  of. 
I  used  to  think  that  when  I  got  the  last 
page  of  my  book  ready  for  press,  the 
front  yard  would  be  full  of  publishers 
tramping  down  the  velvet  lawn  and  the 
meek-eyed  pansies  in  their  crazy  efforts 
to  get  hold  of  the  manuscript,  but  when 
WISHES  TO  CONFER  HIS  BOOK  ON  SOME  J  had  written  the  last  word  of  my  first 
DESERVING  PUBLISHER.  yolume  of  soul-throb,  and  had  opened 

the  casement  to  look  out  on  the  howling,  hungry  mob  of  publishers,  with  check- 
books in  one  hand  and  a  pillow-case  full  of  scads  in  the  other,  I  was  a  little 
puzzled  to  notice  the  abrupt  and  pronounced  manner  in  which  they  were  not 
there. 

All  of  us  have  to  struggle  before  we  can  catch  the  eye  of  the  speaker. 


CONCERNING   BOOK   TUBLISHING.  275 

Milton  didn't  get  one-fiftietli  as  much  for  "Paradise  Lost"  as  I  got  for  my  first 
book,  and  yet  you  will  find  people  to-day  who  claim  that  if  Milton  had  lived 
he  could  have  knocked  the  socks  off  of  me  with  one  hand  tied  behind  him. 
Recollect,  however,  that  I  am  not  here  to  open  a  discussion  on  this  matter. 
Everyone  is  entitled  to  his  own  opinion  in  relation  to  authors.  People  cannot 
asree  on  the  relative  merits  of  literature.  Now,  for  instance,  last  summer  I 
met  a  man  over  in  South  Park,  Col.,  who  could  repeat  page  after  page  of 
Shakespeare,  and  yet,  when  I  asked  him  if  he  was  familiar  with  the  poems  of 
the  "Sweet  Singer  of  Michigan,"  he  turned  upon  me  a  look  of  stolid  vacancy, 
and  admitted  that  he  had  never  heard  of  her  in  his  life. 


/^  ^al/T). 


\  rp  /he  old  Greeley  Colony  in  Colorado,  a  genuine  oasis  in  the  desert,  witli 
C^      ,  -"    its   liuiie  irriijratino:  canals  of   mountain  water  running   through  the 

'f/li   ti\V  o  o 

/tj  ^jr    ^^[g]^ij  wheat  fields,  glistening  each  autumn  at  the  base  of  the  range, 
^      affords  a  good  deal  that  is  curious,  not  only  to  the  mind  of  the  gentle- 
man from  the  States,  but  even  to  the  man  who  lives  at  Cheyenne,  W.  T.,  only 
a  few  hours'  journey  to  the  north. 

You  could  hardly  pick  out  two  cities  so  near  each  other  and  yet  so  unlike  as 
Cheyenne  and  Greeley.  The  latter  is  quiet,  and  even  accused  of  being  dull, 
and  yet  everybody  is  steadily  getting  rich.  It  is  a  town  of  readers,  thinkers 
and  mental  independents.  It  is  composed  of  the  elements  of  New  England 
shrewdness  and  Western  push,  yet  Greeley  as  compared  with  Cheyenne  would 
be  called  a  typical  New  England  town  in  the  midst  of  the  active,  fluctuating, 
booming  West. 

Cheyenne  is  not  so  tame.  With  few  natural  advantages  the  reputation  of 
Cheyenne  is  that,  in  commercial  parlance,  she  is  "A  1"  for  promptness  in  pay- 
ing her  debts  and  absence  of  failures.  There  is  more  wealth  there  in  propor- 
tion to  the  number  of  inhabitants  than  elsewhere  in  the  civilized  world,  no  doubt. 
The  people  take  special  pleasure  in  surprising  Eastern  people  who  visit  them 
by  a  reception  very  often  that  they  will  long  remember  for  cordiality,  hospi- 
tality, and  even  magnificence. 

Still  I  didn't  start  out  to  write  up  either  Cheyenne  or  Greeley.  I  intended 
to  mention  casually  Dr.  Law,  of  the  latter  place,  who  acted  as  my  physician  for 
a  few  months  and  coaxed  me  back  from  the  great  hereafter.  I  had  been  un- 
der the  hands  of  a  physician  just  before,  who  was  also  coroner,  and  who,  I  found 
afterward,  Avas  trying  to  treat  me  professionally  as  long  as  the  lamp  held  out 
to  burn,  intending  afterward  to  sit  upon  me  officially.  He  had  treated  me  pro- 
fessionally until  he  was  about  ready  to  summon  his  favorite  coroner's  jury. 
Then  I  got  irritated  and  left  the  county  of  his  jurisdiction. 

Learning  that  Dr.  Law  was  relying  solely  on  the  practice  of  medicine  for  a 
livelihood,  I  summoned  him,  and  after  explaining  the  great  danger  that  stood 

(276) 


A   CALM.  277 

in  the  way  of  liarmonizing  the  practice  of  medicine  and  the  official  work  of  the 
inquest  business,  I  asked  him  if  he  had  any  business  connection  with  any  un- 
dertaking estalilishment  or  hiG  jacct  business,  and  learning  fi'om  him  that  he 
had  none,  I  engaged  him  to  solder  up  my  vertebras  and  reorganize  my  spinal 
duplex. 

Sometimes  it  isn't  entirely  the  medicine  you  swallow  that  paralyzes  pain  so 
much  as  it  is  the  quiet  magnetism  of  a  good  story  and  the  snap  of  a  pleasant 
eye.  I  had  one  physician  who  tried  to  look  joyous  when  he  came  into  the 
room,  but  he  generally  asked  me  to  run  my  tongue  out  till  he  could  see  where 
it  was  tied  on,  then  he  would  feel  my  pulse  with  his  cold  finger  and  time  it 
with  a  $6  watch,  and  after  that  he  would  write  a  new  prescription  for  horse 
medicine  and  heave  a  sigh,  look  at  me  as  he  might  if  it  had  been  the  last  time 
he  ever  expected  to  see  me  on  earth,  and  then  he  would  sigh  and  go  away. 
When  he  came  back  he  generally  looked  shocked  and  grieved  to  find  me  alive. 
This  was  the  2)ro  tern  physician  and  ex-officio  coroner.  I  always  felt  as  though 
I  ought  to  apologize  to  him  for  clinging  to  life  so,  when  no  doubt  he  had  the 
jury  in  the  hall  waiting  to  "view"  me. 

Dr.  Law  used  to  tell  me  of  the  early  history  of  the  Greeley  Colony,  and 
how  the  original  cranks  of  the  community  used  to  be  in  session  most  of  the 
time,  and  how  they  sometimes  neglected  to  do  their  planting  to  do  legislating, 
and  how  they  overdid  the  council  work  and  neglected  to  "bug"  their  potatoes. 
I  remember,  also,  of  his  description  of  how  the  crew,  working  on  the  original 
big  irrigating  canal,  struck  when  it  was  about  half  done,  and  swore  that  from 
the  Poucbe  the  ditch  was  going  to  run  up  hill,  and  would,  therefore,  be  a  fail- 
ure. The  enc^ineer  didn't  know  at  first  what  was  best  to  do  with  the  beliger- 
ent  laborers,  but  finally  he  took  the  leader  away  from  the  rest  of  the  crew  and 
said,  "Now,  I  tell  you  this  in  confidence,  because  of  course  I  know  perfectly 
well  that  the  stockholders  may  kick  on  it  if  they  hear  it,  but  I'm  building  the 
blamed  thing  as  level  as  I  can  and  putting  one  end  of  it  in  the  Poudre  and  one 
end  in  the  Platte.  Now,  if  I'm  building  it  up  hill  the  water'U  run  down  from 
the  Platte  into  the  Poudre,  and  if  not  it'll  run  from  the  Poudre  into  the  Platte. 
Sabe?" 

The  ditch  was  built,  and  now  a  deep,  still  river  runs  from  the  Poudre  to 
the  Platte,  according  to  advertisement. 

Greeley  is  also  noted  for  its  watchmakers.  I  sent  my  watch  to  the  first  one 
I  heard  of,  and  he  said  it  needed  cleaning.     He  cleaned  it.     I  paid  him  ^2  and 


278  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

took  it  home,  when  it  ran  two  hours  and  then  suspended.  Then  I  took  it  to 
another  watchmaker  who  said  that  the  first  man  had  used  machine  oil  on  its 
works,  and  had  heated  the  wheels  so  as  to  gum  the  oil  on  the  cogs.  He  would 
have  to  eradicate  the  cooked  oil  from  the  watch,  and  it  would  cost  me  $3.  I 
paid  it,  and  joyfully  took  the  watch  home.  The  next  day  I  found  that  it  had 
gained  time  enough  to  pay  for  itself.  By  noon,  it  had  fatigued  itself  so  that 
it  was  losing  terribly,  and  by  the  day  following  had  folded  its  still  hands  across 
its  pale  face  in  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking.  I  took  it  to  the  third  and  last 
jeweler  in  the  town.  Everyone  said  he  was  a  good  workman,  but  a  trifle  slow. 
In  the  afternoon  I  went  in  to  see  how  he  was  getting  along  with  it.  He  was  sit- 
ting at  his  bench  with  a  dice  cup  in  his  eye,  apparently  looking  into  the  diges- 
tive economy  of  the  watch. 

I  looked  at  him  some  time,  not  wishing  to  disturb  him  and  interfere  with 
his  diagnosis.  He  did  not  move  or  say  anything.  Several  people  came  in  to 
trade  and  get  the  correct  time,  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  them. 

I  got  tired  and  changed  from  one  foot  to  the  other  several  times.  Then  I 
asked  him  how  he  got  along,  or  something  of  that  kind,  but  he  never  opened 
his  head.  He  was  the  most  preoccupied  watch  savant  I  ever  saw.  No  outside 
influence  could  break  up  his  chain  of  thought  when  he  got  after  a  diseased 
watch. 

I  finally  got  around  on  the  outside  of  the  shop  and  looked  in  the  window, 
where  I  could  get  a  good  view  of  his  face. 

He  was  asleep. 


Jf)e  Story  of  a  Stru^(^ler. 

jY  name  is  Kaulbach.  William  J.  Kaulbach  is  my  name,  and  I  am 
:k  spending  the  summer  in  Canada.  I  may  remain  here  during  the 
rj  /.  [IJlj}  \  winter,  also.  My  parents  are  very.  poor.  They  had  never  been 
--ri^---  wealthy,  and  at  the  time  of  my  birth  they  were  even  less  wealthy 
than  they  had  been  before.  As  soon  as  I  was  born  the  poverty  of  my  parents 
attracted  my  attention.  I  decided  at  once  to  relieve  their  distress.  I  intended 
to  aid  them  from  my  own  pocket,  but  found  upon  examination  that  I  had  no 
funds  in  my  pocket;  also,  no  pocket;  also,  no  place  to  put  a  pocket  if  I  had 
brought  one  with  me.  So  my  parents  continued  to  be  poor,  and  to  put  by  a 
little  poverty  for  a  rainy  day.  I  was  sole  heir  to  the  poverty  they  had  acquired 
in  all  these  years. 

Nature  did  not  do  much  for  me  in  the  way  of  beauty,  either.  I  was  quite 
plain  when  born  and  may  still  be  identified  by  that  peculiarity.  Plainess  with 
me  is  not  only  a  characteristic,  but  it  is  a  passion.  My  whole  being  is  wrapped 
up  in  it.  My  hair  is  a  sort  of  neutral  brindle,  such  as  grows  upon  the  top  of 
a  retired  hair  trunk,  and  my  freckles  are  olive  green,  fading  into  a  delicate, 
crushed-bran  color.     They  are  very  large,  and  actually  pain  me  at  times. 

My  teacher  tried  to  encourage  me  by  telling  me  of  other  poor  boys  who 
had  grown  up  to  be  president  of  the  United  States,  and  he  tried  to  get  me  to 
consent  to  having  my  name  used  as  a  candidate;  but  I  refrained  from  doing 
so.  I  knew  that,  although  I  was  deserving  of  the  place,  I  could  not  endure  the 
bitterness  of  a  campaign,  and  that  the  illustrated  papers  would  enlarge  upon 
my  personal  appearance  aud  bring  out  my  freckles  till  you  could  hang  your 
hat  on  them. 

So  I  grew  up  to  be  a  stage  robber. 

When  I  have  my  mask  on  my  fi'eckles  do  not  show.  I  lectured  on  phren- 
ology at  first  to  get  means  to  prosecute  my  studies  as  a  stage  robber,  and 
when  I  had  perfected  myself  as  a  burglar  I  went  abroad  to  study  the  meth- 
ods of  the  Italian  banditti.  I  Avas  two  years  under  the  teaching  of  the  old 
masters,  and  acquired  great  fiuency  as  a  robber  while  there.     I  studied  from 

( -r) 


280 


KEMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


nature  all  the  time,  and  some  of  my  best  work  was  taken  from  life.  I  had  an 
opportunity  to  observe  all  the  methods  of  the  most  celebrated  garroting  maestro 
and  stilletto  virtuoso.     He  was  an  enthusiast  and  thoroughly  devoted  to  his 

art.  He  had  a  large  price  on  his 
head,  also.  Aside  from  that  he  went 
bareheaded  winter  and  summer. 

Finally  I  returned  to  my  own  na- 
tive land,  poor,  but  fired  with  a 
mighty  ambition.  I  went  west  and 
proceeded  at  once  to  debut  I  went 
west  to  hold  up  the  country.  I  was 
very  successful,  indeed,  and  have  had 
my  hands  in  the  pockets  of  our  most 
eminent  men. 

We  were  isolated  from  society  a 
good  deal,  but  we  met  the  better  class 
of  people  now  and  then  in  the  course 
of  our  business.  I  did  not  like  so 
much  night  work,  and  sometimes  we 
had  to  eat  raw  pork  because  we  did 
not  wish  to  build  a  fire  that  would 
attract  mosquitoes  and  sheriffs.  So 
we  were  liable  more  or  less  to  trich- 
ina and  insomnia,  but  still  we  were 
free  from  sewer  gas  and  poll  tax. 
"We  did  not  get  our  mail  with  much 
regularity,  but  we  got  a  lick  at  some  mighty  fine  scenery. 

But  all  this  is  only  incidental.  What  I  desired  to  say  was  this :  Fame 
and  distinction  come  high,  and  when  we  have  them  in  our  grasp  at  last  w^e 
find  that  they  bring  their  resultant  sorrows.  I  worked  long  and  hard  for  fame, 
and  sat  up  nights  and  rode  through  alkali  dust  for  thousands  of  miles,  that  I 
might  be  known  as  the  leading  robber  of  the  age  in  which  I  lived,  only  to 
find  at  last  that  my  great  fame  was  the  source  of  my  chief  annoyance.  It 
made  me  so  widely  known  that  I  felt,  as  Christine  Nilsson  says,  "as  though  I 
lived  in  a  glass  case."  Everyone  wanted  to  see  me.  Everyone  wanted  my 
autograph.     Everyone  wanted  my  skeleton  to  hang  up  in  the  library. 


MAKING    HIS    DEBUT. 


THE    STORY    OF   A    STRUGGLER.  281 

I  could  have  traveled  with  a  show  and  drawn  a  large  salary,  but  I  hated  to 
wear  a  boiler  iron  overcoat  all  through  the  hot  weather,  after  having  lived  so 
wild  and  free.  But  all  this  attention  worried  me  so  that  I  could  not  sleep, 
and  many  a  night  I  would  arise  from  the  lava  bed  on  which  I  had  reclined,  and 
putting  on  my  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  I  would  wander  about  under  the 
stars  and  wisli  that  I  could  be  an  unknown  boy  again  in  my  far  away  home. 
But  I  could  not.  I  often  wished  that  I  could  die  a  natural  death,  but  that  was 
out  of  the  question. 

Finally,  it  got  so  that  I  did  not  dare  to  take  a  chew  of  tobacco,  unless  I  did 
so  under  an  assumed  name.  I  hardly  dared  to  let  go  of  my  six-shooter  long 
enough  to  wipe  ray  nose,  for  fear  that  someone  might  get  the  drop  on  me. 

That  is  the  reason  why  I  came  to  Canada.  Here  among  so  many  crimi- 
nals, I  do  not  attract  attention,  but  I  use  a  7iom  de  plume  all  the  time,  even 
here,  and  all  these  hot  nights,  while  others  take  off  their  clothing,  I  lie  and 
swelter  in  my  heavy  winter  nom  de  plume. 


Jt7<?  Old  5<Jt>5erib(^r. 


^Mr^T  tliis  season  of  the  year,  we  are  forcibly  struck  with  the  earnest  and 
W|lf  honest  effort  that  is  being  made  by  the  publisher  of  the  American 
f|^/^  newspaper.  It  is  a  healthy  sign  and  a  hopeful  one  for  the  future  of 
^^1^^^^  our  country.  It  occurs  to  me  that  with  the  great  advancement  of  the 
newspaper,  and  the  family  paper,  and  the  magazine,  we  do  not  expect  leaders 
and  statesmen  to  think  for  us  so  much  as  we  did  fifty  years  ago.  AVe  do  not 
allow  the  newspaper  to  mold  us  so  much  as  we  did.  We  enjoy  reading  the 
opinion  of  a  bright,  brave,  and  cogent  editor  because  we  know  that  he  sits 
where  he  can  acquire  his  facts  in  a  few  hours  from  all  quarters  of  the  globe, 
and  speak  truly  to  his  great  audience  in  relation  to  those  facts,  but  we  have 
ceased  to  allow  even  that  man  to  think  for  us. 

What  then  is  to  be  the  final  outcome  of  all  this  ?  Is  it  not  that  the  aver- 
age American  is  going  to  use,  and  is  using,  his  thinker  more  than  he  ever  did 
before  ?  Will  not  that  thinker  then,  like  the  muscle  of  the  blacksmith's  arm, 
or  the  mule's  hind  foot,  grow  to  a  wondrous  size  as  a  result?     Most  assuredly. 

The  day  certainly  is  not  far  distant,  when  the  American  can  not  only  out- 
fight, out-row,  out-bat,  out-run,  out-lie,  and  out-sail  all  other  nationalities ;  but 
he  will  also  be  able  to  out-think  them.  We  already  point  with  pride  to  some 
of  the  wonderful  thoughts  that  our  leading  thinkists,  with  their  thinkers,  have 
tliunk.  There  are  native  born  Americans  now  living,  who  have  thought  of 
things  that  would  make  the  head  of  the  amateur  thinker  ache  for  a  week. 

All  this  is  largely  due  to  the  free  use  of  the  newspaper  as  a  home  educator. 
The  newspaper  is  growing  more  and  more  ubiquitous,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the 
expression.  Many  poor  people,  who,  a  few  years  ago,  could  not  afford  the 
newspaper,  now  have  it  scolloped  and  put  it  on  their  pantry  shelves  every  year. 

But  I  did  not  start  out  to  enlarge  upon  the  newspaper.  I  would  like  to  say  a 
word  or  two  more,  however,  on  that  general  subject.  Very  often  we  hear  some 
wise  man  with  the  responsibility  of  the  universe  on  his  sholders,  the  man  who 
thinks  he  is  the  censor  of  the  human  race  now,  and  that  he  will  be  foreman  of 

(28?) 


THE   OLD   SUBSCRIBER.  283 

the  grand  jury  on  the  Judgment  Day  —  we  hear  this  kind  of  man  say  every 
little  Avhile: 

"We've  got  too  many  papers.  We  are  loaded  down  with  reading  matter. 
Can't  read  all  my  paper  every  day.  Lots  of  days  I  throw  my  paper  aside  be- 
fore I  get  it  all  read  through,  and  never  have  a  chance  to  finish  it.  All  that 
is  dead  loss." 

It  is,  of  course,  a  dead  loss  to  that  kind  of  a  man.  He  is  the  kind  of  man 
that. expects  his  family  to  begin  at  one  side  of  the  cellar  and  eat  right  straight 
across  it — cabbages,  potatoes,  turnips,  pickles,  apples,  pumpkins,  etc.,  etc., — 
Avithout  stopping  to  discriminate.  There  are  none  too  many  papers,  so  far  as 
the  subscriber  is  concerned.  Looking  at  it  from  the  publisher's  standpoint 
sometimes,  there  are  too  many. 

To  the  man  who  has  inherited  too  large,  wide,  sinewy  hands,  and  a  brain 
that  under  the  microscope  looks  like  a  hepatized  lung,  it  seems  some  days  as 
though  the  field  had  been  over-crowded  when  he  entered  it.  To  the  young 
man  who  was  designed  to  maul  rails  or  sock  the  fence-post  into  the  bosom  of 
the  earth,  and  who  has  evaded  that  sphere  of  action  and  disregarded  the  man- 
date to  maul  rails,  or  to  take  a  coal-pick  and  toy  with  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
hoping  to  win  an  easier  livelihood  by  feeding  sour  paste  to  village  cockroaches, 
and  still  poorer  pabulum  to  his  subscribers,  the  newspaper  field  seems  to  be 
indeed  jam  full. 

But  not  so  the  man  who  is  tall  enough  to  see  into  the  future  about  nine 
feet.  He  still  remembers  that  he  must  live  in  the  hearts  of  his  subscribers, 
and  he  makes  their  wants  his  own.  He  is  not  to  proud  to  listen  to  sugges- 
tions from  the  man  who  works.  He  recognizes  that  it  is  not  the  man  with  the 
diamond-mounted  stomach  who  has  contributed  most  to  his  success,  but  the 
man  who  never  dij)S  into  society  much  with  the  exception  of  his  family,  per- 
haps, and  that  ought  to  be  good  society.  A  man  ought  not  to  feel  too  good 
to  associate  with  his  wife  and  children.  Generally  my  sympathies  are  with  his 
wife  and  children,  if  they  have  to  associate  with  him  very  much. 

But  if  I  could  ever  get  down  to  it,  I  would  like  to  say  a  word  on  behalf  of 
the  old  subscriber.  Being  an  old  subscriber  myself,  I  feel  an  interest  in  his 
cause ;  and  as  he  rarely  rushes  into  print  except  to  ask  why  the  police  contrive 
to  keep  aloof  from  anything  that  might  look  like  a  fight,  or  to  inquire  why  the 
fire  department  will  continue  year  after  year  to  run  through  the  streets  killing 
little  children  who  never  injured  the  department  in  any  way,  just  so  that  they 


284  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

will  be  in  time  to  chop  a  hole  in  the  roof  of  a  house  that  is  not  on  fire,  and 
pour  some  water  down  into  the  library,  then  whoop  through  an  old  tin  dipper 
a  few  times  and  go  away  —  as  the  old  subscriber  does  not  generally  say  much 
in  print  except  on  the  above  subjects,  I  make  bold  to  say  on  his  behalf  that  as 
a  rule,  he  is  not  treated  half  as  well  as  the  prodigal  son,  who  has  been  spend- 
ing his  substance  on  a  rival  paper,  or  stealing  his  news  outright  from  the  old 
subscriber. 

Why  should  we  pat  the  new  subscriber  on  the  back,  and  give  him  a  new 
album  that  will  fall  to  pieces  whenever  you  laugh  in  the  same  room  ?  Why 
should  you  forget  the  old  love  for  the  new?  Do  we  not  often  impose  on  the 
old  subscriber  by  giving  up  the  space  he  has  paid  for  to  flaming  advertisements 
to  catch  the  coy  and  skittish  gudgeon  who  still  lurks  outside  the  fold?  Do 
we  not  ofttimes  offer  a  family  Bible  for  a  new  subscriber  when  an  old  sub- 
scriber may  be  in  a  lost  and  undone  state? 

Do  we  not  asrain  and  again  offer  to  the  wife  of  our  new  subscriber  a  beau- 
tiful,  plain  gold  ring,  or  a  lace  pin  for  a  year's  subscription  and  $1,  while  the 
wife  of  our  old  subscriber  is  just  in  the  shank  of  a  long,  hard,  cold  winter, 
without  a  ring  or  a  pin  to  her  back? 

We  ought  to  remember  that  the  old  subscriber  came  to  us  with  his  money 
when  we  most  needed  it.  He  bore  with  us  when  we  were  new  in  the  business, 
and  used  such  provincialisms  as  "  We  have  saw"  and  "If  we  had  knew."  He 
bore  with  us  when  the  new  column  rules  were  so  sharp  that  they  chawed  the 
paper  all  up,  and  the  office  was  so  cold,  waiting  for  wood  to  come  in  on  sub- 
scription, that  the  "color"  was  greasy  and  reluctant.  He  took  our  paper  and 
paid  for  it,  while  the  new  subscriber  was  in  the  penitentiary  for  all  we  know. 
He  made  a  mild  kick  sometimes  when  he  "didn't  git  his  paper  reggler;"  but 
he  paid  on  the  first  day  of  January  every  year  in  advance,  out  of  an  old  calf- 
skin wallet  that  opened  out  like  a  concertina,  and  had  a  strap  that  went  around 
it  four  times,  and  looked  as  shiny,  and  sweaty,  and  good-natured  as  the  razor- 
strop  that  might  have  been  used  by  Noah. 

The  old  subscriber  never  asked  any  rebate,  or  requested  a  prize  volume  of 
poetry  with  a  red  cover,  because  he  had  paid  for  another  year ;  but  he  simply 
warmed  his  numb  finders,  so  that  he  could  loosen  his  overalls  and  lower  one 
side  enough  to  let  his  hand  into  the  pocket  of  his  best  pantaloons  underneath, 
and  there  he  always  found  the  smooth  wallet,  and  inside  of  it  there  was  always 
a  $2  bill,  that  had  been  put  there  to  pay  for  the  paper.     Then  the  old  sub- 


THE    OLD    SUBSCRIBER. 


285 


scriber  would  -warm  liis  hands  some  more,  ask  "How's  tricks?"  but  never 
begin  to  run  down  the  paper,  and  then  he  would  go  away  to  work  for  another 
year. 

I  want  to  say  that  this  country  rests  upon  a  great,  solid  foundation  of  old, 
paid-up  subscribers.  They  are  the  invisible,  rock-ribbed  resting-place  for  the 
dazzling  superstructure  and  the 
slim  and  peaked  spire.  "Whether 
we  procure  a  new  press  or  a  new 
dress,  a  new  contributor  or  a  new 
printers'  towel,  we  must  bank  on 
the  old  subscriber;  for  the  new 
one  is  fickle,  and  when  some  other 
paper  gives  him  a  larger  or  a 
redder  covered  book,  he  may  de- 
sert our  standard.  He  yearns  for 
the  flesh-pots  and  the  new  scroll 
saws  of  other  papers.  He  soon 
wearies  of  a  uniformly  good  paper, 
with  no  chance  to  draw  a  town  lot 
or  a  tin  mine  —  in  Montana. 

Let  us,  therefore,  brethren  of 
the  press,  cling  to  the  old  sub- 
scriber as  he  has  clung  to  us.  Let 
us  say  to  him,  on  this  approaching  Christmas  Eve,  "Son,  thou  art  always  with 
me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine.  It  was  meet  that  we  should  make  merry, 
that  this,  thy  brother,  who  had  been  a  subscriber  for  our  vile  contemporary  many 
years,  but  is  alive  again,  and  during  a  lucid  interval  has  subscribed  for  our 
paper ;  but,  after  all,  we  would  not  go  to  him  if  we  wanted  to  borrow  a  dollar. 
Remember  that  you  still  have  our  confidence,  and  when  we  want  a  good  man 
to  indorse  our  note  at  the  bank,  you  will  find  that  your  name  in  our  memory 
is  ever  fresh  and  green." 

Looking  this  over,  I  am  struck  with  the  amount  of  stuff  I  have  successfully 
said,  and  yet  there  is  a  paucity  of  ideas.  Some  writers  would  not  use  the 
word  paucity  in  this  place  without  first  knowing  the  meaning  of  it,  but  I  am 
not  that  way.  There  are  thousands  of  words  that  I  now  use  freely,  but  could 
not  if  I  postponed  it  until  I  could  learn  their  meaning.     Timidity  keeps  many 


^'^^M^> 


THE   RIGHT    SORT    OF    SUBSCRIBER. 


286  REMAEKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

of  our  authors  back,  I  think.  Many  are  more  timid  about  using  big  words 
than  they  are  about  using  other  people's  ideas. 

A  friend  of  mine  wanted  to  write  a  book,  but  hadn't  the  time  to  do  it.  So 
he  asked  me  if  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  him.  He  was  very  literary,  he  said,  but 
his  business  took  up  all  his  time,  so  I  asked  him  what  kind  of  a  book  he  wanted. 
He  said  he  wanted  a  funny  book,  with  pictures  in  it  and  a  blue  cover.  I  saw 
at  once  that  he  had  fine  literary  taste  and  delicate  discrimination,  but  prob- 
ably did  not  have  time  to  give  it  full  swing.  I  asked  him  what  he  thought  it 
would  be  worth  to  write  such  a  book.  "Well,"  he  said,  he  had  always  sup- 
posed that  I  enjoyed  it  myself,  but  if  I  thought  I  ought  to  have  pay  besides, 
he  would  be  willing  to  pay  the  same  as  he  did  for  his  other  writing  —  ten 
cents  a  folio. 

He  is  worth  $50,000,  because  he  has  documentary  evidence  to  show  that  a 
man  who  made  that  amount  out  of  deceased  hogs,  had  the  misfortune  to  be  his 
father  and  then  die. 

It  was  a  great  triumph  to  be  born  under  such  circumstances,  and  yet  the 
young  man  lacks  the  mental  stamina  necessary  to  know  how  to  successfully 
eat  common  mush  and  milk  in  such  a  low  key  that  will  not  alarm  the  police. 

I  use  this  incident  more  as  an  illustration  than  anything  else.  It  illustrates 
how  anything  may  be  successfully  introduced  into  an  article  of  this  kind  with- 
out having  any  bearing  whatever  upon  it. 

I  like  to  close  a  serious  essay,  or  treatise,  with  some  humorous  incident, 
like  the  clown  in  the  circus  out  West  last  summer,  who  joked  along  through  the 
performance  all  the  afternoon  till  two  or  three  children  went  into  convulsions, 
and  hypochondria  seemed  to  reign  rampant  through  the  tent.  All  at  once  a 
bright  idea  struck  him.  He  climbed  up  on  the  flying  trapeze,  fell  off,  and 
broke  his  neck.  He  was  determined  to  make  that  audience  laugh,  and  he  did 
it  at  last.     Every  one  felt  repaid  for  the  trouble  of  going  to  the  circus. 


fT\y  bo<^. 


HAVE  owned  quite  a  number  of  dogs  in  my  life,  but  they 
are  all  dead  now.  Last  evening  I  visited  my  dog  cemetery — 
just  between  the  gloaming  and  the  shank  of  the  evening.  On 
the  biscuit-box  cover  that  stands  at  the  head  of  a  little  mound 
fringed  with  golden  rod  and  pickle  bottles,  the  idler  may  still 
read  these  lines,  etched  in  red  chalk  by  a  trembling  hand: 

LITTLE    KOSCIUSKO, 

NOT  DEAD, — 

BUT    JERKED    HENCE 

By  Request. 

S.  Y.  L, 
(See  you  Later.) 

I  do  not  know  why  he  was  called  Kosciusko.  I  dp  not  care.  I  only  know 
that  his  little  grave  stands  out  tliere  while  the  gloaming  gloams  and  the  sough- 
ing winds  are  soughing. 

Do  you  ask  why  I  am  alone  here  and  dogless  in  this  weary  world  ? 

I  will  tell  you,  anyhow.     It  will  not  take  long,  and  it  may  do  me  good : 

Kosciusko  came  to  me  one  night  in  winter,  with  no  baggage  and  unidenti- 
fied. When  I  opened  the  door  he  came  in  as  though  he  had  left  something  in 
there  by  mistake  and  had  returned  for  it. 

He  stayed  with  us  two  years  as  a  watch-dog.  In  a  desultory  way,  he  was 
a  good  watch-dog.  If  he  had  watched  other  people  with  the  same  unrelenting 
scrutiny  with  which  he  watched  me,  I  might  have  felt  his  death  more  keenly 
than  I  do  now. 

The  second  year  that  little  Kosciusko  was  with  us,  I  shaved  off  a  full  beard 
one  day  while  down  town,  put  on  a  clean  collar  and  otherwise  disguised  myself, 
intending  to  surprise  my  wife. 

Kosciusko  sat  on  the  front  porch  when  I  returned.  He  looked  at  me  as 
the  cashier  of  a  bank  does  when  a  newspaper  man  goes  in  to  get  a  suspiciously 

(287) 


288 


EEMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


large  check  cashed.  He  clid  not  know  me.  I  said,  "  Kosciusko,  have  you  forgot- 
ten your  master's  voice?" 

He  smiled  sarcastically,  showing  his  glorious  wealth  of  mouth,  but  still 
sat  there  as  though  he  had  stuck  his  tail  into  the  door-steps  and  couldn't  get 
it  out. 

So  I  waived  the  formality  of  going  in  at  the  front  door,  and  went  around  to 
the  portcullis,  on  the  off  side  of  the  house,  but  Kosciusko  was  there  when  I 
arrived.  The  cook,  seeing  a  stranger  lurking  around  the  manor  house, 
encouraged  Kosciusko  to  come  and  gorge  himself  with  a  part  of  my  leg,  which 
he  did.  Acting  on  this  hint  I  went  to  the  barn.  I  do  not  know  why  I  went 
to  the  barn,  but  somehow  there  was  nothing  in  the  house  that  I  wanted.    When 


THE   COMBAT. 

a  man  wants  to  be  by  himself,  there  is  no  place  like  a  good,  quiet  barn  for 
thought.     So  I  went  into  the  barn,  about  three  feet  prior  to  Kosciusko. 

Noticing  the  stairway,  I  ascended  it  in  an  aimless  kind  of  way,  about  four 
steps  at  a  t?'me.  What  happened  when  we  got  into  the  haymow  I  do  not  now 
recall,  only  that  Kosciusko  and  I  frolicked  around  there  in  the  hay  for  some 
time.  Occasionally  I  would  be  on  top,  and  then  he  would  have  all  the  dele- 
gates, until  finally  I  got  hold  of  a  pitchfork,  and  freedom  shrieked  when  Kos- 
ciusko fell.  I  wrapped  myself  up  in  an  old  horse-net  and  went  into  the  house. 
Some  of  my  clothes  were  afterward  found  in  the  hay,  and  the  doctor  pried  a 
part  of  my  person  out  of  Kosciusko's  jaws,  but  not  enough  to  do  me  any  good. 

I  have  owned,  in  all,  eleven  dogs,  and  they  all  died  violent  deaths,  and  went 
out  of  the  world  totally  unprepared  to  die. 


f\   pieturi?$qu<?  piepie. 

^^AILROADS  have  made  the  Eocky  Mountain  country  familiar  and  con- 
tiguous, I  may  say,  to  the  whole  world ;  but  the  somber  canon,  the  bald 
.,.  ..bAi  and  blackened  clifP,  the  velvety  park  and  the  snowy,  silent  peak  that 
^^  forever  rests  against  the  soft,  blue  sky,  are  ever  new.  The  foamy 
green  of  the  torrent  has  whirled  past  the  giant  walls  of  nature's  mighty  for- 
tress myriads  of  years,  perhaps,  and  the  stars  have  looked  down  into  the  great 
heart  of  earth  for  centuries,  where  the  silver  thread  of  streams,  thousands  of 
feet  below,  has  been  patiently  carving  out  the  dark  canon  where  the  eagle  and 
the  solemn  echo  have  their  home. 

I  said  this  to  a  gentleman  from  Leadville  a  short  time  ago  as  we  toiled  up 
Kenoska  Hill,  between  Platte  caiion  and  the  South  Park,  on  the  South  Park 
and  Pacific  Railway.  He  said  that  might  be  true  in  some  cases  and  even  more 
so,  perhaps,  depending  entirely  on  whether  it  would  or  not. 

I  do  not  believe  at  this  moment  that  he  thoroughly  understood  me.  He 
was  only  a  millionaire  and  his  soul,  very  likely,  had  never  throbbed  and  thrilled 
with  the  mysterious  music  nature  yields  to  her  poet  child. 

He  could  talk  on  and  on  of  porphyry  walls  and  contact  veins,  gray  copper 
and  ruby  silver,  and  sulphurets  and  pyrites  of  iron,  but  when  my  eye  kindled 
with  the  majestic  beauty  of  these  eternal  battlements  and  my  voice  trembled  a 
little  with  awe  and  wonder;  while  my  heart  throbbed  and  thrilled  in  the  midst 
of  nature's  eloquent,  golden  silence,  this  man  sat  there  like  an  Etruscan  ham 
and  refused  to  throb  or  thrill.  He  was  about  as  unsatisfactory  a  throbber  and 
thriller  as  I  have  met  for  years. 

At  an  elevation  of  over  10,000  feet  above  high  water  mark,  Fahrenheit,  the 
South  Park,  a  hundred  miles  long,  surrounded  by  precipitous  mountains  or 
green  and  sloping  foot-hills,  burst  upon  us,  In  the  clear,  still  air,  a  hundi'ed 
miles  away,  at  Pueblo,  I  could  hear  a  promissory  note  and  cut-throat  mort- 
gage drawing  three  per  cent,  a  month.  So  calm  and  unruffled  was  the  rari- 
fied  air  that  I  fancied  I  could  hear  the  thirteenth   assessment  on  a  share  of 

(289) 


290  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

stock  at  Leadville  toiling  away  at  the  bottom  of  a  two  hundred  and  fifty  foot 
shaft, 

Colorado  air  is  so  pure  that  men  'n  New  York  have,  in  several  instances, 
heard  the  dull  rumble  of  an  assessment  working  as  far  away  as  the  San  Juan 
country. 

At  Como,  in  the  park,  I  met  Col.  Wellington  Wade,  the  Duke  of  Dirty 
Woman's  Ranch,  and  barber  extraordinary  to  old  Stand-up-and-Yowl,  chief  of 
the  Piebiters. 

Colonel  Wade  is  a  reformed  temperance  lecturer.  I  went  to  his  shop  to 
get  shaved,  but  he  was  absent.  I  could  smell  hair  oil  through  the  keyhole, 
but  the  Colonel  was  not  in  his  slab-inlaid  emporium.  He  had  been  preparing 
another  lecture  on  temperance,  and  was  at  that  moment  studying  the  habits  of 
his  adversary  at  a  neighboring  gin  palace.  I  sat  down  on  the  steps  and  de- 
voured the  beautiful  landscape  till  he  came.  Then  I  sat  down  in  the  chair, 
and  he  hovered  over  me  while  he  talked  about  an  essay  he  had  written  on  the 
flowing  bowl.  His  arguments  were  not  so  strong  as  his  breath  seemed  to  be. 
I  asked  him  if  he  wouldn't  breathe  the  other  way  awhile  and  let  me  sober  up. 
I  learned  afterward  that  although  his  nose  was  red,  his  essay  was  not. 

He  would  shave  me  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  he  would  hone  the  razor 
on  his  breath  and  begin  over  again.  I  think  he  must  have  been  pickling  his 
lungs  in  alcohol.  I  never  met  a  more  pronounced  gin  cocktail  symphony  and 
bologna  sausage  study  in  my  life. 

I  think  Sir  Walter  Scott  must  have  referred  to  Colonel  Wade  when  he 
said,  "Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead?"  Colonel  Wade's  soul  might 
not  have  been  dead,  but  it  certainly  did  not  enjoy  perfect  health. 

I  went  over  the  mountains  to  Breckenridge  the  next  day,  climbed  two  miles 
perpendicularly  into  the  sky,  rode  on  a  special  train  one  day,  a  push  car  the 
next  and  a  narrow-gauge  engine  the  next.  Saw  all  the  beauty  of  the  country, 
in  charge  of  Superintendent  Smith,  went  over  to  Buena  Vista  and  had  a  con- 
gestion of  the  spine  and  a  good  time  generally.  You  can  leave  Denver  on  a 
morning  train  and  see  enough  wild,  grand,  picturesque  loveliness  before  supper, 
to  store  away  in  your  heart  and  hang  upon  the  walls  of  memory,  to  last  you 
all  through  your  busy,  humdrum  life,  and  it  is  a  good  investment,  too. 


Jaxidermy. 


m 


^HIS  name  is  from  two  Greek  words  which  signify  "arrangement"  and 
,,  x^  "skin,"  so  that  the  ancient  Greeks,  no  doubt,  regarded  taxidermy  as 
Jlz^  the  original  skin-game  of  that  period.  Taxidermy  did  not  flourish  in 
^  America  prior  to  the  year  1828.  At  that  time  an  Englishman  named 
Scudder  established  a  museum  and  general  repository  for  upholstered  beasts. 
Since  then  the  art  has  advanced  quite  rapidly.  To  properly  taxiderra,  re- 
quires a  fine  taste  and  a  close  study  of  the  subject  itself  in  life,  akin  to  the  re- 
quirements necessary  in  order  to  succeed  as  a  sculptor.  I  have  seen  taxi- 
dermed  animals  that  would  not  fool  anybody.  I  recall,  at  this  time  especially, 
a  mountain  lion,  stuffed  after  death  by  a  party  who  had  not  made  this  matter 
a  subject  of  close  study.  The  lion  was  represented  in  a  crouching  attitude, 
with  open  jaws  and  red  gums.  As  time  passed  on  and  year  succeeded  year, 
this  lion  continued  to  crouch.  His  tail  became  less  rampant  and  drooped  like 
a  hired  man  on  a  hot  day.  His  gums  became  less  fiery  red  and  his  reddish 
skin  hung  over  his  bones  in  a  loose  and  distraught  manner,  like  an  old  buff'alo 
robe  thrown  over  the  knees  of  a  vinegary  old  maid.  Spiders  spun  their  webs 
across  his  dull,  white  fangs.  Mice  made  their  nests  in  his  abdominal  cavity. 
His  glass  eye  became  hopelessly  strabismussed,  and  the  moths  left  him  bald- 
headed  on  the  stomach.  He  was  a  sad  commentary  on  the  extremely  trans- 
itory nature  of  all  things  terrestrial  and  the  hollowness  of  the  stuffed  beast. 

I  had  a  stuffed  bird  for  a  long  time,  which  showed  the  cunning  of  the 
stuffer  to  a  great  degree.  It  afforded  me  a  great  deal  of  unalloyed  pleasure, 
because  I  liked  to  get  old  hunters  to  look  at  it  and  tell  me  what  kind  of  a  bird 
it  was.  They  did  not  generally  agree.  A  bitter  and  acrimonious  fight  grew 
out  of  a  discussion  in  relation  to  this  bird.  A  man  from  Vinegar  Hill  named 
Lyons  and  a  party  called  Soiled  Murphy  (since  deceased),  were  in  my  office 
one  morning — Mr.  Lyons  as  a  witness,  and  Mr.  Murphy  in  his  great  specialty 
as  a  drunk  and  disorderly.  We  had  just  disposed  of  the  case,  and  had  just 
stepped  down  from  the  bench,  intending  to  take  off  the  judicial  ermine  and 
put  some  more  coal  in  the  stove,  when  the  attention  of  Soiled  Murphy  was  at- 

(291} 


292  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

tracted  to  the  bird.     He  allowed  that  it  was  a  common  "  hell-diver  with  an  ab- 
normal liead,"  while  Lyons  claimed  that  it  was  a  kingfisher. 

The  bird  had  a  duck's  body,  the  head  of  a  common  eagle  and  the  feet  of  a 
sage  hen.  These  parts  had  been  adjusted  with  great  care  and  the  tail  loaded 
with  lead  somehow,  so  that  the  powerful  head  would  not  tip  the  bird  up  be- 
hind. With  this  rcM'rt  avis,  to  use  a  foreign  term,  I  loved  to  amuse  and  in- 
struct old  hunters,  wJio  had  been  hunting  all  their  lives  for  a  free  drink,  and 
hear  them  tell  how  they  had  killed  hundred  of  these  birds  over  on  the  Poudre 
in  an  early  day,  or  over  near  Elk  Mountain  when  the  country  was  new. 

So  Lyons  claimed  that  he  had  killed  millions  of  these  fowls,  and  Soiled 
Murphy,  who  was  known  as  the  tomato  can  and  beer -remnant  savant  of  that 
country,  said  that  before  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  got  into  that  section,  these 
birds  swarmed  around  Hutton's  lakes  and  lived  on  horned  toads. 

The  feeling  got  more  and  more  partisan  till  Mr.  Lyons  made  a  pass  at 
Soiled  Murphy  with  a  large  red  cuspidor  that  had  been  presented  to  me  by 
Valentine  Baker,  a  dealer  in  abandoned  furniture  and  mines.  Mr.  Murphy 
then  welted  Lyons  over  the  head  with  the  judicial  scales.  He  then  adroitly 
caught  a  lump  of  bituminous  coal  with  his  countenance  and  fell  to  the  floor 
with  a  low  cry  of  pain, 

I  called  in  an  outside  party  as  a  witness,  and  in  the  afternoon  both  men 
were  convicted  of  assault  and  battery.  Soiled  Murphy  asked  for  a  change  of 
venue  on  the  ground  that  I  was  prejudiced.  I  told  him  that  I  did  not  allow 
^anything  whatever  to  prejudice  me,  and  went  on  with  the  case, 
i  This  great  tasidermic  masterpiece  led  to  other  assaults  afterward,  all  of 
which  proved  remunerative  in  a  small  way.  My  successor  claimed  that  the 
bird  was  a  part  of  the  perquisites  of  the  office,  and  so  I  had  to  turn  it  over 
with  the  docket. 

I  also  had  a  stuffed  weasel  fi'om  Cummins  City  that  attracted  a  great  deal 
of  attention,  both  in  this  country  and  in  Europe.  It  looked  some  like  a  weasel 
and  some  like  an  equestrian  sausage  with  haii-  on  it 


Jl?e  U/ay$  of  Do(:tor5. 


an  old-timer 
g  about  'em, 


(^(^"^^T^HEKE'S  a  big  difference  in  doctors,  I  tell  you,"  said  f 
^  j«\g   to  me  tlie  other  day.     "You  think  you  know  something 
>^  J  I  f   but  you  are  still  in  the  fluff  and  bloom,  and  kindergarten  of  life, 

^      Wait  till  you've  been  through  what  I  have." 
"Where,  for  instance?"  I  asked  him. 

"Well,  say  nothing  about  anything  else,  just  look  at  the  doctors  we  had  in 
the  war.  We  had  a  doctor  in  our  regiment  that  looked  as  if  he  knew  so  much 
that  it  made  him  unhappy. 
I  found  out  afterward  that 
he  ran  a  kind  of  cow  found- 
ling asylum,  in  Utah  before 
the  war,  and  when  he  had 
to  prescribe  for  a  human 
being,  it  seemed  to  kind  of 
rattle  him. 

"I  fell  off'n  my  horse  early 
in  the  campaign  and  broke 
my  leg,  I  rickolect,  and  he 
sot  the  bone.  He  thouirht 
that  a  bone  should  be  sot 
similar  to  a  hen.  He  made 
what  he  called  a  good  splice, 
but  the  break  was  above  the 
knee,  and  he  got  the  cow 
idea  into  his  head  in  a  way 
that  set  the  knee  behind. 
That  was  bad. 

"I  told  him  one  day  tliat 
he  was  a  blamed  fool.  He 
gave  me  a  cigar  and  told  me 
I  must  be  a  mind  reader. 


HE  GAVE   ME   A   CIGAR. 


(293) 


294 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


"For  several  weeks  our  colonel  couldn't  eat  anything,  and  seemed  to  feel 
kind  of  billions.  He  didn'tknow  what  the  trouble  was  till  he  went  to  the  doc- 
tor. He  looked  at  the  colonel  a  few  moments,  examined  his  tongue,  and  told 
him  right  off  that  he  had  lost  his  cud. 

"He  bragged  a  good  deal  on  his  diagnosis.  He  said  he'd  like  to  see  the 
disease  he  couldn't  diagnose  with  one  hand  tied  behind  him. 

"He  was  always  telling  me  how  he  had  resuscitated  a  man  they  hung  over 
at  Tie  City  in  the  early  day.     He  was  hung  by  mistake,  it  seemed.     It  was  a 


BURIED   WITH    MILITARY    HONORS. 


dark  night,  and  the  Vigilance  committee  was  in  something  of  a  hurry,  having 
another  party  to  hang  over  at  Dirty  "Woman's  ranch  that  night,  and  so  they 
erroneously  hung  a  quiet  young  feller  fi'om  Illinois,  who  had  been  sent  west  to 
cure  a  case  of  bronchitis.  He  was  right  in  the  middle  of  an  explanation  when 
the  head  vigilanter  kicked  the  board  from  under  him  and  broke  his  neck. 

"All  at  once,  some  one  said:     'My  God,  we  have  made  a  ridiculous  blunder. 
Boys,  we  can't  be  too  careful  about  hanging  total  strangers.     A  few  more  such 


THE   WAYS   OF   DOCTORS.  295 

breaks  as  these,  and  people  from  the  States  will  hesitate  about  coming  here 
to  make  their  homes.  We  have  always  claimed  that  this  was  a  good  country 
for  bronchitis,  but  if  we  write  to  Illinois  and  tell  this  young  feller's  parents 
the  facts,  we  needn't  look  for  a  very  large  hegira  from  Illinois  next  season. 
Doc,  can't  you  do  anything  for  the  young  man?' 

"Then  this  young  physician  stepped  forward,  he  says,  and  put  his  knee  on 
the  back  of  the  boy's  neck,  give  it  a  little  push,  at  the  same  time  pulled  the 
head  back  with  a  snap  that  straightened  the  neck,  and  the  young  feller,  who 
was  in  the  middle  of  a  large  word,  something  like  'contumely,'  when  the  barrel 
tipped  over,  finished  out  the  word  and  went  right  on  with  the  explanation. 
The  doctor  said  he  lived  a  good  many  years,  and  was  loved  and  esteemed  by 
all  who  knew  him. 

"The  doctor  was  always  telling  of  his  triumphs  in  surgery.  He  did  save  a 
good  many  lives,  too,  toward  the  close  of  the  war.  He  did  it  in  an  odd 
way,  too. 

"He  had  about  one  year  more  to  serve,  and,  with  his  doctoring  on  one  side 
and  the  hostility  of  the  enemy  on  the  other,  our  regiment  was  wore  down  to 
about  five  hundred  men.  Everybody  said  we  couldn't  stand  it  more  than 
another  year.  One  day,  however,  the  doctor  had  just  measured  a  man  for  a 
porus  plaster,  and  had  laid  the  stub  of  his  cigar  carefully  down  on  the  top  of  a 
red  powder-keg,  when  there  was  a  slight  atmospheric  disturbance,  the  smell 
of  burnt  clothes,  and  our  regiment  had  to  apply  for  a  new  surgeon. 

"The  wife  of  our  late  surgeon  wrote  to  have  her  husband's  remains  for- 
warded to  her,  but  I  told  her  that  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  do  so,  owing  to 
the  nature  of  the  accident.  I  said,  however,  that  we  had  found  an  upper  set  of 
store  teeth  imbedded  in  a  palmetto  tree  near  by,  and  had  buried  them  with 
military  honors,  erecting  over  the  grave  a  large  board,  on  which  was  inscribed 
the  name  and  age  of  the  deceased  and  tliis  inscription: 

''Not  (lead,  Imt  spontaneously  distributed.  Gone  to  meet  liis  (jlorified  tlirong 
of  patients.      Ta,  ta.  vain  world.'''' 


f\b^er)\:  f[\\T)ded. 


EEMEMBER  an  attorney,  who  practiced  law  out  West  years  ago,  who 
used  to  fill  his  pipe  with  brass  paper  fasteners,  and  try  to  light  it  with  a 
ruling  pen  about  twice  a  day.     That  was  his  usual  average. 
"^  He  would  talk  in  unknown  tongues,  and  was  considered  a  thorough  and 

revised  encyclopedia  on  everything  from  the  tariff  on  a  meerschaum  pipe  to  the 
latitude  of  Crazy  "Woman's  Fork  west  of  Greenwich,  and  yet  if  he  went  to  the 
postoffice  he  would  probably  mail  his  pocketbook  and  carefully  bring  his  let- 
ter back  to  the  office. 

One  day  he  got  to  thinking  about  the  Monroe  doctrine,  or  the  sudden  and 
horrible  death  of  Judas  Iscariot,  and  actually  lost  his  ofiice.  He  walked  up 
and  down  for  an  hour,  scouring  the  town  for  the  evanescent  office  that  had 
escaped  his  notice  while  he  was  sorrowing  over  the  shocking  death  of  Judas, 
or  Noah's  struggles  against  malaria  and  a  damp,  late  spring. 

Martin  Luther  Brandt  was  the  name  of  this  eccentric  jurist.  He  got  up  in 
the  night  once,  and  dressed  himself,  and  taking  a  night  train  in  that  dreamy 
way  of  his,  rode  on  to  Denver,  took  the  Rio  Grande  train  in  the  morning  and 
drifted  away  into  old  Mexico  somewhere.  He  must  have  been  in  that  same  old 
half  comatose  state  when  he  went  away,  for  he  made  a  most  ludicrous  error  in 
getting  his  wife  in  the  train.  When  he  arrived  in  old  Mexico  he  found  that 
he  had  brought  another  man's  wife,  and  by  some  strange  oversight  had  left 
his  own  at  home  with  five  children.  It  hardly  seems  possible  that  a  man 
could  be  so  completely  enveloped  in  a  brown  study  that  he  would  err  in  the 
matter  of  a  wife  and  five  children,  but  such  was  the  case  with  Martin  Luther. 
Martin  Luther  couldn't  tell  you  his  own  name  if  you  asked  him  suddenly,  so 
as  to  give  him  a  nervous  shock. 

This  dreamy,  absent-minded,  wool-gathering  disease  is  sometimes  contag- 
ious. Pretty  soon  after  Martin  Luther  struck  Mexico  the  malignant  form  of 
brown  study  broke  out  among  the  greasers,  and  an  alarming  mania  on  the 
somnambulistic  order  seemed  to  follow  it.     A  party  of  Mexican  somuambuloes 

(296) 


ABSENT   MINDED.  297 

one  night  got  together,  and  while  the  disease  was  at  its  height  tied  Martin 
Luther  to  the  gable  of  a  'dobe  hen  palace.  His  soul  is  probably  at  this  moment 
floundering  around  through  space,  trying  to  find  the  evergreen  shore. 

An  old  hunter,  who  was  a  friend  of  mine,  had  this  odd  way  of  walking 
aimlessly  around  with  his  thoughts  in  some  other  world. 

I  used  to  tell  him  that  some  day  he  would  regret  it,  but  he  oidy  laughed 
and  continued  to  do  the  same  fool  thing. 

Last  fall  he  saw  a  grizzly  go  into  a  cave  in  the  upper  waters  of  the  Platte, 
and  strolled  in  there  to  kill  her.  As  he  has  not  returned  up  to  this  inoment,  I 
am  sure  he  has  erroneously  allowed  himself  to  get  mixed  up  as  to  the  points 
of  the  compass,  and  has  fallen  a  victim  to  this  fatal  brown  study.  Some  think 
that  the  brown  study  had  hair  on  it. 


T 


U/oma^'s  U/oQderful  Ipfluepc^e. 

y  OMAN  wields  a  wonderful  influence  over  man's  destinies,"  said 

\llf    Woodtick  William,  the  other  day,  as  he  breathed  gently  on  a 

>J  /[%  lirJ    chunk  of  blossom  rock  and  then  wij^ed  it  carefully  with  the 

"Woman  in  most  cases  is  gentle  and  long  suffering,  but  if  you  observe 
her  close  for  several  consecutive  weeks  you  will  notice  that  she  generally  gets 

there  with  both  feet. 

"I've  been  quite  a 
student  of  the  female 
mind  myself.  I  have, 
therefore,  had  a  good 
deal  of  opportunity  to 
compare  the  everedge 
man  with  the  everedge 
woman  as  regards  ketch- 
in'  on  in  our  great  gen- 
eral farewell  journey  to 
the  tomb. 

"  Woman  has  figgered 
a  good  deal  in  my  own 
destinies.  My  first  wife 
was  a  large,  powerful 
woman,  who  married  me 
before  I  hardly  knew  it. 
She  married  me  down 
near  Provost,  in  an  early 
day.  Her  name  was  Lo- 
rena.  The  name  didn't 
seem  to  suit  her  complexion  and  phizzeek  as  a  general  thing.'  It  was  like  call- 
ing the   fat  woman  in    the   museum  Lily.      Lorena  was  a  woman  of  great 

(298) 


YOU  GO  ON  WITH  YOUR  PETITION. 


woman's  wonderful  influence. 


299 


strength  o£  purpose.  She  was  also  strong  in  the  wrists.  Lorena  was  of  foreign 
extraction,  with  far-away  eyes  and  large,  earnest  red  hands.  You  ou<'-ht  to  have 
saw  her  preserve  order  during  the  hour  for  morning  prayers.  I  had  a  hired 
man  there  in  Utah,  in  them  days,  who  was  inclined  to  be  a  scoffer  at  our  plain 
liome-made  style  of  religion.  So  I  told  Lorena  that  I  was  a  little  afraid  that 
Orlando  Whoopenkaugh  would  rise  up  suddenly  while  I  was  at  prayer  and 
spatter  my  thinker  all  over  the  cook  stove,  or  create  some  other  ruction  that 
would  cast  a  gloom  over  our  devotions. 

"  Lorena  said :  '  Never  mind,  William.  You  are  more  successful  in  prayer, 
while  I  am  more  successful  in  disturbances.  You  go  on  with  your  petition, 
and  I  will  preserve  order." 

"Lorena  saved  my  life  once  in  a  singular  manner.  Be- 
ing a  large,  powerful  woman,  of  course  she  no  doubt  pre- 
served me  from  harm  a  great  many  times ;  but  on  this  oc- 
casion it  was  a  clear  case. 

"  I  was  then  sinking  on  the  Coopon  claim,  and  had  got 
the  prospect  shaft  down  a  couple  of  hiindred  foot  and  was 
drifting  for  the  side  wall  with  indifferent  success.     We 
was   working    a  day  shift  of  six 
men,  blasting,  hysting  and  a  little 
timbering.     I  was  in  charge  of  the 
crew  and  eastern  capital  was  fur- 
nishing the  ready  John  Davis,  if 
you  will  allow  me  that  low  term. 

"Lorena  and  me  had  been  a 
little  edgeways  for  several  days, 
owing  to  a  little  sassy  remark  made 
by  her  and  a  retort  on  my  part  in 
which  I  thoughtlessly  alluded  to 
her  brother,  who  was  at  that  time 
serving  out  a  little  term  for  life 
down  at  Canyon  City,  and  who,  if 
his  life  is  spared,  is  at  it  yet.  If  I  wanted  to  make  Lorena  jump  nine  feet 
high  and  holler,  all  I  had  to  do  Avas  just  to  allude  in  a  jeering  way  to  her 
family  record.  So  she  got  madder  and  madder,  till  at  last  it  ripened  into 
open  hostility,  and  about  noon  on  the  13th  day  of  September  Lorena  attacked 


LOIIENA    JUMPING    NINE    FEET    HIGH. 


300  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

me  with  a  largo  butclior  knife  and  drove  me  into  the  adjoining  county.  She  told 
me,  also,  that  if  I  ever  returned  to  Provost  she  would  cut  me  in  two  right  be- 
tween the  pancreas  and  the  watch  pocket  and  feed  me  to  the  hens. 

"I  thought  if  she  felt  that  way  about  it  I  would  not  return.  I  felt  so  hurt 
and  so  grieved  about  it  that  I  never  stopped  till  I  got  to  Omaha.  Then  I  heard 
liow  Lorena,  as  a  means  in  the  hands  of  Providence,  had  saved  my  unprofitable 
life. 

"When  she  got  back  to  the  house  and  had  i)ut  away  her  butcher  knife,  a 
man  came  rushing  in  to  tell  her  that  the  boys  had  struck  a  big  pay  streak  of 
water,  and  that  the  whole  crew  in  the  Coopon  was  drowned,  her  husband  among 
the  rest. 

''Then  it  dawned  on  Lorena  how  she  had  saved  me,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life  she  burst  into  tears.  People  who  saw  her  said  her  grief  was  terri- 
ble. Tears  are  sad  enough  when  shed  by  a  man,  but  when  we  see  a  strong 
woman  bowed  in  grief,  we  shudder. 

"No  one  who  has  never  deserted  his  wife  at  her  urgent  request  can  fully 
realize  the  pain  and  anguish  it  costs.  I  have  been  married  many  times  since, 
but  the  sensation  is  just  the  same  to-day  as  it  was  the  first  time  I  ever  deserted 
my  wife. 

"As  I  said,  though,  a  woman  has  a  wonderful  influence  over  a  man's  whole 
life.  If  I  had  a  chance  to  change  the  great  social  fabric  any,  though,  I  should 
ask  woman  to  be  more  thoughtful  of  her  husband,  and,  if  possible,  less  severe. 
I  would  say  to  woman,  be  a  man.  Pise  above  these  petty  little  tyrannical  ways. 
Instead  of  asking  your  husband  what  he  does  with  every  cent  you  give  him, 
learn  to  trust  him.  Teach  him  that  you  have  confidence  in  him.  Make  him 
think  you  have  anpvay,  whether  you  have  or  not.  Do  not  seek  to  get  a  whif, 
of  his  breath  every  ten  minutes  to  see  whether  he  has  been  drinking  or  not. 
If  you  keep  doing  that  you  will  sock  him  into  a  drunkard's  grave,  sure  pop. 
He  will  at  first  lie  about  it,  then  he  wall  use  disinfectants  for  the  breath,  and 
then  he  will  stay  away  till  he  gets  over  it.  The  tiinid  young  man  says,  '  Pass 
the  cloves,  please.  I've  got  to  get  ready  to  go  home  pretty  soon.'  The  man 
whose  wife  really  has  fun  with  him  says,  'Well,  boys,  good-night.  I'm  sorry 
for  you.'     Then  he  goes  home. 

"Very  few  men  have  had  the  opportunities  for  observation  in  a  matrimo- 
nial way  that  I  have,  AVilliam.  You  see,  one  man  judges  all  the  wives  in  Christ- 
endom by  his'n.     Another  does  ditto,  and  so  it  goes.     But  I  have  made  matri- 


woman's  wonderful  influence.  301 

mony  a  study.  It  has  been  a  life-work  for  me.  Others  have  simply  dabbled 
into  it.  I  have  studied  all  its  phases  and  I  am  an  expert.  So  I  say  to  you 
that  woman,  in  one  way  or  another,  either  by  strategy  and  winnin'  ways  or  by 
main  strength  and  awkwardness,  is  absolutely  sure  to  wield  an  all-fired  influ- 
ence over  poor,  weak  man,  and  while  grass  grows  and  water  runs,  pardner, 
you  will  always  find  lier  presiding  over  man's  destinies  and  his  ducats." 


(?au$e5  for  'l[)ZY)\[S(^mT)(^. 

E  are  now  rapidly  approaching  the  date  of  our  great  national  thanks- 
liji   giving.     Another  year  has  almost  passed  by  on  the  wings  of  tire- 
Wmli    less  time. 


Since  last  we  gathered  about  the  festive  board  and  spattered  the 
true  inwardness  of  the  family  gobbler  over  the  table  cloth,  remorseless  time, 
who  knows  not  the  weight  of  weariness,  has  sought  out  the  good,  the  true  and 
the  beautiful,  as  well  as  the  old,  the  sinful  and  the  tough,  and  has  laid  his 
heavy  hand  upon  them.  We  have  no  more  fitting  illustration  of  the  great 
truth  that  death  prefers  the  young  and  tender  than  the  deceased  turkey  upon 
which  we  are  soon  to  operate.  How  still  he  lies,  mowed  down  in  life's  young 
morn  to  make  a  yankee  holiday. 

How  changed  he  seems!  Once  so  gay  and  festive,  now  so  still,  so  strangely 
quiet  and  reserved.  How  calmly  he  lies,  with  his  bare  limbs  buried  in  the 
lurid  atmosphere  like  those  of  a  hippytehop  artist  on  the  west  side. 

Soon  the  amateur  carver  will  plunge  the  shining  blade  into  the  unresisting 
bird,  and  the  air  will  be  filled  with  stuffing  and  half  smothered  profanity.  The 
Thanksgiving  turkey  is  a  grim  humorist,  and  nothing  pleases  him  so  well  as 
to  hide  his  joint  in  a  new  place  and  then  flip  over  and  smile  when  the  student 
misses  it  and  buries  the  knife  in  the  bosom  of  a  personal  friend.  Few  men  can 
retain  their  sang  froid  before  company  when  they  have  to  get  a  step  ladder 
and  take  down  the  second  joint  and  the  merry  thought  from  the  chandelier 
while  people  are  looking  at  them. 

And  what  has  the  past  year  brought  us  ?  Speaking  from  a  Republican 
standpoint,  it  has  brought  us  a  large  wad  of  dark  blue  gloom.  Speaking  from 
a  Democratic  standpoint,  it  has  been  very  prolific  of  fourth-class  postoffices 
worth  from  |200  down  to  $1.35  per  annum.  Politically,  the  past  year  has  been 
one  of  wonderful  changes.  Many  have,  during  the  year  just  past,  held  office 
for  the  first  time.  Many,  also,  have  gone  out  into  the  cold  world  since  last 
Thanksgiving  and  seriously  considered  the  great  problem  of  how  to  invest  a 
small  amount  of  actual  perspiration  in  plain  groceries. 

(802) 


CAUSES   FOR   THANKSGIVING.  303 

Many  who  considered  the  life  of  a  politician  to  be  one  of  high  priced  food 
and  inglorious  ease,  have  found,  now  that  they  have  the  fruit,  that  it  is  ashes 
on  their  lips. 

Our  foreign  relations  have  been  mutually  pleasant,  and  those  who  dwell 
across  the  raging  main,  far  removed  from  the  refining  influences  of  our  pro- 
hibitory laws,  have  still  made  many  grand  strides  toward  the  amelioration  of 
our  lost  and  undone  race.  Many  foreigners  who  have  never  experienced  the 
pleasure  of  drinking  mysterious  beverages  from  gas  fixtures  and  burial  caskets 
in  Maine,  or  from  a  blind  pig  in  Iowa,  or  a  Babcock  fire  extinguisher  in  Kan- 
sas, still  enjoy  life  by  bombarding  the  Czar  as  lie  goes  out  after  a  scuttle  of 
coal  at  night,  or  by  putting  a  surprise  package  of  dynamite  on  the  throne  of  a 
tottering  dynasty,  where  said  tottering  dynasty  will  have  to  sit  down  upon  it 
and  then  pass  rapidly  to  another  sphere  of  existence. 

Many  startling  changes  have  taken  place  since  last  November.  The  poli- 
tical fabric  in  our  own  land  has  assumed  a  different  hue,  and  men  who  a  year 
agfo  were  unnoticed  and  unknown  are  even  more  so  now.  This  is  indeed  a 
healthy  sign.  No  matter  what  party  or  faction  may  be  responsible  for  this,  I 
say  in  a  wholly  non-partisan  spirit,  that  I  am  glad  of  it. 

I  am  glad  to  notice  that,  owing  to  thaactive  enforcement  of  the  Edmunds 
bill  in  Utah,  polygamy  has  been  made  odorous.  The  day  is  not  far  distant 
when  Utah  will  be  admitted  as  a  State  and  her  motto  will  be  "one  country,  one 
fiag,  and  one  wife  at  a  time."  Then  will  peace  and  prosperity  unite  to  make 
the  modern  Zion  the  habitation  of  men.  The  old  style  of  hand-made  valley 
tan  will  give  place  to  a  less  harmful  beverage,  and  we  will  Avelcome  the  new 
sister  in  the  great  family  circle  of  States,  not  clothed  in  the  disagreeable  en- 
dowment robe,  but  dressed  up  in  the  Mother  Hubbard  wrapper,  with  a  surcin- 
gle around  it,  such  as  the  goddess  of  liberty  wears  when  she  has  her  picture  taken. 

Crops  throughout  the  northwest  have  been  fairly  good,  though  the  gain 
yield  has  been  less  in  quantity  and  inferior  in  quality  to  that  of  last  year.  A 
Democratic  administration  has  certainly  frowned  upon  the  professional,  parti- 
san office  seekers,  but  it  has  been  unable  to  stay  the  onward  march  of  the 
chintz  bug  or  to  produce  a  perceptible  falling  off  in  pip  among  the  yellow- 
limbed  fowls.  While  Jeffersonian  purity  and  economy  have  seemed  to  rage 
with  great  virulence  at  Washington,  in  the  northwest  heaves  and  botts  among 
horses  and  common,  old-fashioned  hollow  horn  among  cattle  have  been  the  pre- 
vailing complaints. 


304  EEMAltKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

And  yet  there  is  much  for  which  we  should  be  thankful.  Many  broad- 
browed  men  who  knew  how  a  good  paper  ought  to  be  conducted,  but  who  had 
no  other  visible  means  of  support,  have  passed  on  to  another  field  of  labor,  leav- 
ing the  work  almost  solely  in  the  hands  of  the  vast  army  of  novices  who  at  the 
present  are  at  the  head  of  journalism  throughout  the  country,  and  who  sadly 
miss  those  timely  words  of  caution  that  Avere  wont  to  fall  from  the  lips  of  those 
men  whose  spirits  are  floating  through  space,  finding  fault  with  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  solar  system. 

The  fool -killer,  in  the  meantime,  has  not  been  idle.  With  his  old,  rusty, 
unloaded  musket,  he  has  gathered  in  enough  to  make  his  old  heart  swell  with 
pride,  and  to  this  number  he  has  added  many  by  using  "  rough  on  rats,"  a  prep- 
aration that  never  killed  anything  except  those  that  were  unfortunate  enough 
to  belong  to  the  human  family. 

Still  the  fool-killer  has  missed  a  good  many  on  account  of  the  great  rush 
of  business  in  his  line,  and  I  presume  that  no  one  has  a  greater  reason  to  be 
thankful  for  this  oversight  than  I  have. 


I 


parmii)^  ip  f[\a\T)e. 


^HE  State  of  Maine  is  a  good  place  in  which  to  experiment  with  prohibi- 
tion, but  it  is  not  a  good  phice  to  farm  it  in  very  largely. 

In  the  first  place,  the  season  is  generally  a  little  reluctant.  When 
I  was  up  near  Moosehead  Lake,  a  short  time  ago,  people  were  driving 
across  that  body  of  water  on  the  ice  with  perfect  impunity.  That  is  one  thing 
that  interferes  with  the  farming  business  in  Maine.  If  a  young  man  is  sleigh- 
riding  every  night  till  midnight,  he 
don't  feel  like  hoeing  corn  the  follow- 
ing day.  Any  man  who  has  ever  had 
his  feet  frost-bitten  while  bugging  po- 
tatoes, will  agree  with  me  that  it  takes 
away  the  charm  of  pastoral  pursuits. 
It  is  this  desire  to  amalgamate  dog  days 
and  Santa  Clans,  that  has  injured  Maine 
as  an  agricultural  hot-bed. 

Another  reason  that  might  be  as- 
signed for  refraining  from  agricultural 
pursuits  in  Maine,  is  that  the  agitator 
of  the  soil  finds  whgn  it  is  too  late  that 
soil  itself,  which  is  essential  to  tlie  suc- 
cessful propagation  of  crops,  has  not 
been  in  use  in  Maine  for  years.  While 
all  over  the  State  there  is  a  magnificent 
stone  foundation  on  Avhich  a  farm  might 
safely  rest,  the  superstructure,  or  farm 
proper,  has  not  been  secured. 

If  I  had  known  when  I  passed  through 
Minnesota  and  Illinois  what  a  soil 
famine  there  was  in  Maine,  I  would 
have  brought  some  with  me.  The  stone  crop  this  year  in  Maine  Avill  be  very 
great.  If  they  do  not  crack  open  during  the  dry  Aveather,  there  will  be  a  great 
many.  The  stone  bruise  is  also  looking  unusually  well  for  this  season  of  the 
year,  and  chilblains  were  in  full  bloom  when  I  Avas  there. 

(305) 


-% 


A    DAY-DREAM. 


306  EEMAEKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Ill  the  neighborhood  of  Pittsfield,  the  country  seems  to  run  largely  to  cold 
"water  and  chattel  mortgages.  Some  think  that  rum  has  always  kept  Maine 
back,  but  I  claim  that  it  has  been  wet  feet.  In  another  article  I  refer  to  the 
matter  of  rum  in  Maine  more  fully. 

The  agricultural  resources  of  Pittsfield  and  vicinity  are  not  great,  the  prin- 
cipal exports  being  spruce  gum  and  Christmas  trees.  Hero  also  the  huckle- 
berry hath  her  home.  But  the  country  seems  to  run  largely  to  Christmas  trees. 
They  were  not  yet  in  bloom  when  I  visited  the  State,  so  it  was  too  early  to 
gather  popcorn  balls  and  Christmas  presents. 

Here,  near  Pittsfield,  is  the  birthplace  of  the  only  original  wormless  dried 
apple  pie,  with  which  we  generally  insult  our  gastric  economy  when  we  lunch 
along  the  railroad.  These  pies,  when  properly  kiln-dried  and  rivetted,  with 
German  silver  monogram  on  top,  if  fitted  out  with  Yale  time  lock,  make  the 
best  fire  and  burglar-proof  wormless  pies  of  commerce.  They  take  the  place 
of  civil  war,  and  as  a  promoter  of  intestine  strife  they  have  no  equal. 

The  farms  in  Maine  are  fenced  in  with  stone  walls.  I  do  not  know  way 
this  is  done,  for  I  did  not  see  anything  on  these  farms  that  anyone  would 
naturally  yearn  to  carry  away  with  him. 

I  saw  some  sheep  in  one  of  these  enclosures.  Their  steel-pointed  bills  were 
lying  on  the  wall  near  them,  and  they  were  resting  their  jaws  in  the  crisp, 
frosty  morning  air.  In  another  enclosure  a  farmer  was  planting  clovt/  seed 
with  a  hypodermic  syringe,  and  covering  it  with  a  mustard  plaster.  He  said 
that  last  year  his  clover  was  a  complete  failure  because  his  mustard  plasters 
were  no  good.  He  had  tried  to  save  money  by  using  second-hand  mustard 
plasters,  and  of  course  the  clover  seed,  missing  the  warm  stimulus,  neglected 
to  rally,  and  the  crop  was  a  failure. 

Here  may  be  noticed  the  canvas-back  moose  and  a  strong  antipathy  to 
good  rum.  I  do  not  wonder  that  the  people  of  Maine  are  hostile  to  rum — if 
they  judge  all  rum  by  Maine  rum.  The  moose  is  one  of  the  most  gamey  of 
the  finny  tribe.  He  is  caught  in  the  fall  of  the  year  with  a  double-barrel 
shotgun  and  a  pair  of  snow-shoes.  He  does  not  bite  unless  irritated,  but 
little  boys  should  not  go  near  the  female  moose  while  she  is  on  her  nest.  The 
masculine  moose  wears  a  harelip,  and  a  hat  rack  on  his  head  to  which  is 
attached  a  placard  on  which  is  printed: 

JS®""  Please  Keep  Off  the  Grass.  ""^H 

This  shows  that  the  moose  is  a  humorist. 


Doo5edly  Dilatory. 

INCE  the  investigation  of  Washington  pension  attorneys,  it  is  a  little 
Kg^   remarkable  how  scarce  in  the  newspapers  is  the  a2:)pearance  of  adver- 
tisements like  this. 

■^>"  PENSIONS!     Thousands  of  soldiers  of  the  late  war  are  still  en- 

titled to  pensions  with  the  large  accumulations  since  the  injury  was  received. 
We  procure  pensions,  back  pay,  allowances.  Appear  in  the  courts  for  non- 
resident .clients  in  United  States  land  cases,  etc.  Address  Skinnem  &  Co., 
Washington,  D.  C. 

I  didn't  participate  in  the  late  war,  but  I  have  had  some  experience  in  put- 
ting a  few  friends  and  neighbors  on  the  track  of  a  pension.  Those  who  have 
tried  it  will  remember  some  of  the  details.  It  always  seemed  to  me  a  little 
more  difficult  someliow  for  a  man  who  had  lost  both  legs  at  Antietam,  than  for 
the  man  who  got  his  nose  pulled  ofP  at  an  election  three  years  after  the  war 
closed.  It,  of  course,  depended  a  good  deal  on  the  extemporaneous  affidavit 
qualifications  of  the  applicant.  About  five  years  ago  an  acquaintance  came  to 
me  and  said  he  wanted  to  get  a  pension  from  the  government,  and  tliat  he 
ha;in't  the  first  idea  about  the  details.  He  didn't  know  whether  he  should 
apply  to  the  President  or  to  the  Secretary  of  State.  Would  I  "kind  of  put 
him  onto  the  racket."  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted  a  pension  for,  and  he  said 
his  injury  didn't  show  much,  but  it  prevented  his  pursuit  of  kopecks  and 
happiness.  He  had  nine  children  by  his  first  wife,  and  if  he  could  get  a  pen- 
sion he  desired  to  marry  again.  ^ 

As  to  the  nature  of  his  injuries,  he  said  that  at  the  battle  of  Fair  Oaks  he 
supported  his  command  by  secreting  himself  behind  a  rail  fence  and  harass- 
ing the  enemy  from  time  to  time,  by  a  system  of  coldness  and  neglect  on  his 
part.  While  thus  employed  in  breaking  the  back  of  the  Confederacy,  a  solid 
shot  struck  a  crooked  rail  on  which  he  was  sitting,  in  such  a  way  as  to  jar  his 
spinal  column.  From  this  concussion  he  had  never  fully  recovered.  He  didn't 
notice  it  any  more  while  sitting  down  and  quiet,  but  the  moment  he  began  to 

(307) 


308  BEMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

do  manual  labor  or  to  stand  on  his  feet  too  long,  unless  he  had  a  bar  or  some- 
thing to  lean  up  against,  he  felt  the  cold  chill  run  up  his  back  and  life  was  no 
object. 

I  told  him  that  I  was  too  busy  to  attend  to  it,  and  asked  him  why  he  didn't 
put  his  case  in  the  hands  of  some  Washington  attorney,  who  could  be  on  the 
ground  and  attend  to  it.  He  decided  that  he  would,  so  he  wrote  to  one  of 
these  philanthropists  whom  we  will  call  Fitznoodle.     I  give  him  the  nom  de 

\  plume  of  Fitznoodle  to  nip  a  $20,000  libel  suit  in  the  Inid.  Well,  Fitznoodle 
sent  back  some  blanks  for  the  claimant  to  sign,  by  wliicli  he  bound  himself, 
his  heirs,  executors,   representatives  and  assigns,  firmly  by  these  presents  to 

j  pay  to  said  Fitznoodle,  the  necessary  fees  for  postage,  stationery,  car  fare,  con- 
cert tickets,  and  office  rent,  while  said  claim  was  in  the  hands  of  the  pension 
department.  He  said  in  a  letter  that  he  would  have  to  ask  for  $2,  please,  to 
pay  for  postage.  He  inclosed  a  circular  in  which  he  begged  to  refer  the  claim- 
ant to  a  reformed  member  of  the  bar  of  the  District  of  Columbia,  a  backslid- 
den foreign  minister  and  three  prominent  men  who  had  been  dead  eleven  years 
by  the  watch.  In  a  postscript  he  again  alluded  to  the  $2  in  a  casual  way, 
waved  the  American  flag  two  times,  and  begged  leave  to  subscribe  himself  once 
more.  "Yours  Fraternally  and  professionally.  Good  Samaritan  Fitznoodle 
Attorney  at  Law,  Solicitor  in  Chancery,  and  Promoter  of  Even-handed  Justice 
in  and  for  the  District  of  Columbia."  The  claimant  sent  his  %2,  not  neces- 
sarily for  publication,  but  as  a  guaranty  of  good  faith. 

Later  on  Mr.  Fitznoodle  said  that  the  first  step  would  be  to  file  a  declara- 
tion enclosing  %'o  and  the  names  of  two  witnesses  who  were  present  when  the 

■■  claimant  was  born,  and  could  identify  him  as  the  same  man  who  enlisted  from 
Emporia  in  the  Thirteenth  Kansas  Nighthawks.  Five  dollars  must  be  enclosed 
to  defray  the  expenses  of  a  trip  to  the  ofiice  of  the  commissioner  of  pensions, 
which  trip  would  naturally  take  in  eleven  saloons  and  ten  cents  in  car  fare. 
"P.  S. — Attach  to  the  declaration  the  signature  and  seal  of  a  notary  public  of 
pure  character,  $5,  the  certificate  of  the  clerk  of  a  court  of  record  as  to  the 
genuineness  of  the  signature  of  the  notary  public,  his  term  of  appointment 
and  $5."  These  documents  were  sent,  after  which  there  was  a  lull  of  about 
three  months.  Then  the  swelling  in  Mr.  Fitznoodle's  head  had  gone  down  a 
little,  but  there  was  still  a  seal  brown  taste  in  his  mouth.  So  he  wrote  the 
claimant  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  jog  the  memory  of  the  department  about 
$3  dollars  worth ;  and  to  file  collateral  testimony  setting  forth  that  claimant 


DOOSEDLY   DILATORY.  309 

was  a  native  born  American  or  that  ho  had  declared  his  intention  to  become  a 
citizen  of  the  United  States,  that  he  had  not  formed  nor  expressed  an  opinion 
for  or  against  the  accused,  which  the  testimony  would  not  eradicate,  that  he  would 
enclose  |3,  and  that  he  had  never  before  applied  for  a  pension.  After  awhile 
a  circular  from  the  pension  end  of  the  department  was  received,  stating  that 
the  claimant's  application  had  been  received,  filed  and  docketed  No.  188,935,- 
0G24,  on  page  9,847  of  book  G,  on  the  thumb-hand  side  as  you  come  iu  on 
the  New  York  train.  On  the  strength  of  this  document  the  claimant  went  to 
the  grocery  and  bought  an  ecru-colored  ham,  a  sack  of  corn  meal  and  a  pound 
of  tobacco.  In  June  Mr.  Fitznoodle  sent  a  blank  to  be  filled  out  by  the  claim- 
ant, stating  whether  he  had  or  had  not  been  baptized  prior  to  his  enlistment ; 
and,  if  so,  to  what  extent,  and  how  he  liked  it  so  far  as  he  had  gone.  This 
was  to  be  sworn  to  before  two  witnesses,  who  were  to  be  male,  if  possible,  and 
if  not,  the  department  would  insist  on  their  being  female.  These  witnesses 
must  swear  that  they  had  no  interest  in  the  said  claim,  or  anything  else.  On 
receipt  of  this,  together  with  $5  in  postoffice  money  order  or  New  York  draft, 
the  document  would  be  filed  and,  no  doubt,  acted  upon  at  once.  In  July,  a 
note  came  from  the  attorney  saying  that  he  regretted  to  write  that  the  pension 
department  was  now  250,000  claims  behind,  and  if  business  was  taken  up  in 
its  regular  order,  the  claim  under  discussion  might  not  be  reached  for  between 
nine  and  ten  years.  However,  it  would  be  possible  to  "expedite"  the  claim,  if 
$25  could  be  remitted  for  the  purpose  of  buying  a  spike-tail  coat  and  plug 
hat,  in  which  to  appear  before  the  commissioner  of  pensions  and  mash  him 
flat  on  the  shape  of  the  attorney.  As  the  claimant  didn't  know  much  of  the 
practical  working  of  the  machinery  of  government,  he  swallowed  this  pill  and 
remitted  the  $25.  Here  followed  a  good  deal  of  red  tape  and  international 
monkeying  during  which  the  claimant  was  alternately  taking  an  oath  to  sup- 
port the  constitution  of  the  United  States,  and  promising  to  support  the  con- 
stitution and  by-laws  of  Mr.  Fitznoodle.  The  claimant  was  constantly  assured 
that  his  claim  was  a  good  one  and  on  these  autograph  letters  written  with  a 
type-writer,  the  war-born  veteran  with  a  concussed  vertebra,  bought  groceries 
and  secured  the  funds  to  pay  his  assessments. 

For  a  number  of  years  I  heard  nothing  of  the  claim,  but  a  few  months 
ago,  when  Mr.  Fitznoodle  was  arrested  and  jerked  into  the  presence  of  the 
grand  jury,  a  Washington  friend  wrote  me  that  the  officers  found  in  his  table 
a  letter  addressed  to  the  man  who  was  jarred  in  the  rear  of  the  Union  army, 


310  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

and  in  which  (the  letter,  I  mean),  he  alluded  to  tlie  long  and  pleasant  corres- 
2:»ondence  which  had  sprung  up  between  thein  as  lawyer  and  client,  and  regret- 
ting that,  as  the  claim  would  soon  be  allowed,  their  friendly  relations  would 
no  doubt  cease,  would  he  please  forward  $13  to  pay  freight  on  the  pension 
money,  and  also  a  lock  of  his  hair  that  Mr.  Fitznoodle  could  weave  into  a 
watchchain  and  wear  always.  As  the  claimant  does  not  need  the  papers,  he 
probably  thinks  by  this  time  that  Mr.  Good  Samaritan  Fitznoodle  has  been 
kidnapped  and  thrown  into  the  moaning,  hungry  sea. 


T  would  please  me  very  mucli,  at  no  distant  day,  to  issue  a  small  book  filled 

with  choice  recipes  and  directions  for  making  home  happy.  I  have 
^1  1  accumulated  an  immense  assortment  of  these  things,  all  of  general  use 
"'■^^  and  all  excellent  in  their  way,  because  they  have  been  printed  in  pa})ers  all 
over  the  country — papers  that  would  not  be  -wrong.  Some  of  these  recipes  I 
have  tried. 

I  have  tried  the  recipe  for  paste  and  directions  for' applying  wall  paper,  as 
published  recently  in  an  agricultural  paper  to  which  I  had  become  very  much 
attached. 

This  recipe  had  all  the  characteristics  of  an  ingenuous  and  honest  docu- 
ment. I  cut  it  out  of  the  paper  and  filed  it  away  where  I  came  very  near  not 
finding  it  again.     But  I  was  unfortunate  enough  to  find  it  after  a  long  search. 

The  scheme  was  to  prepare  a  flour  paste  that  would  hold  forever,  and  at  the 
same  time  make  the  paper  look  smooth  and  neat  to  the  casual  observer.  It 
consisted  of  so  many  parts  flour,  so  many  parts  hot  water  and  so  many  parts 
common  glue.  First,  the  walls  were  to  be  sized,  however.  I  took  a  common 
tape  measure  and  sized  the  w^alls. 

Then  I  put  a  dishpan  on  the  cook  stove,  poured  in  the  flour,  boiling  water 
and  glue.  This  rapidly  produced  a  dark  brown  mess  of  dough,  to  Avhich  I 
was  obliged  to  add  more  hot  water.  It  looked  extremely  repulsive  to  me,  but 
it  looked  a  good  deal  better  than  it  smelled. 

I  did  not  have  much  faith  in  it,  but  I  thought  I  would  try  it.  I  put  some 
of  it  on  a  long  strip  of  wall  paper  and  got  up  on  a  chair  to  apply  it.  In  the 
excitement  of  trying  to  stick  it  on  the  wall  as  nearly  perpendicular  as  possible, 
I  lost  my  balance  Avhile  still  holding  the  paper  and  fell  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
wrap  four  yards  of  bronze  paper  and  common  flour  paste  around  my  wife's 
head,  with  the  exception  of  about  four  feet  of  the  paper  which  I  applied  to  an 
oil  painting  of  a  Gordon  Setter  in  a  gilt  frame. 

I  decline  to  detail  the  dialogue  which  then  took  place  between  my  wife  and 
myself.     Whatever  claim  the  public   may  have  on  me,   it  has  no  right  to 

(311) 


312 


IIEMAIIKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


demand  this.  It  will  continue  to  remain  sacred.  That  is,  not  so  very  sacred 
of  course,  if  I  remember  my  exact  language  at  the  time,  but  sacredly  secret 
from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  public. 

It  is  singular,  but  it  is  none  the  less  the  never  dying  truth,  that  the  only 
time  that  paste  ever  stuck  anything  at  all,  was  when  I  applied  it  to  my  wife 
^        j  //kj/'/L   //  ^^^'^  tl^^it  picture.     After  that  it 

^^^  W  /KWJW  y/  did  everything  but  adhere.     It 

gourmed  and  it  gummed  every- 
thing, but  that  was  all. 

The  man  who  wrote  the  rec- 
ij)e  may  have  been  stuck  on  it, 
but  nothing  else  ever  was. 

Finally  a  friend  came  along 
who  helped  me  pick  the  paper 
off  the  dog  and  soothe  my 
wife.  He  said  that  what  this 
paste  needed  was  more  glue 
and  a  quart  of  molasses.  I 
added  these  ingredients,  and 
constructed  a  quart  of  chem- 
ical molasses  which  looked  like 
crude  ginger  bread  in  a  molten 
state. 

Then,  with  the  aid  of  my 
friend,  I  proceeded  to  paper  the 
room.  The  paper  would  seem  to  adhere  at  times,  and  then  it  would  refrain 
from  adhering.  This  was  annoying,  but  we  succeeded  in  applying  the  paper 
to  the  walls  in  a  way  that  showed  we  were  perfectly  sincere  about  it.  "We 
didn't  seek  to  mislead  anybody  or  cover  up  anything.  Any  one  could  see 
where  each  roll  of  paper  tried  to  be  amicable  with  its  neighbor — also  where 
we  had  tried  the  laying  on  of  hands  in  applying  the  paper. 

AVe  got  all  the  paper  on  in  good  shape — also  the  bronze.  But  they  were 
in  different  places.  The  paper  was  on  the  walls,  but  the  bronze  was  mostly  on 
our  clothes  and  on  our  hands.  I  was  very  tired  when  I  got  through,  and  I 
went  to  bed  early,  hoping  to  get  much  needed  rest.  In  the  morning,  when  I 
felt  fresh  and  rested,  I  thought  that  the  paper  would  look  better  to  me. 


I    LOST    MY    BALANCE. 


EVERY    MAN    HIS    OWN    PAPER-HANGER.  313 

There  is  wliere  I  fooled  myself.  It  did  not  look  better  to  me.  It  looked 
worse. 

All  night  long  I  could  occasionally  hear  something  crack  like  a  Fourth  of 
July.     I  (lid  not  know  at  the  time  Avliat  it  was,  but  in  the  morning  I  discovered. 

It  seems  that,  during  the  night,  tliat  paper  had  wrinkled  itself  up  like  the 
skin  on  the  neck  of  a  pioneer  hen  after  death.  It  had  pulled  itself  together 
with  so  much  zeal  that  the  room  was  six  inches  smaller  each  way  ami  the 
carpet  didn't  fit. 

There  is  only  one  way  to  insure  success  in  the  publication  of  recipes. 
They  must  be  tried  by  the  editor  himself  before  they  are  printetl.  If  you 
have  a  good  recipe  for  paste,  you  must  try  it  before  you  print  it.  If  you  have 
a  good  remedy  for  botts,  you  must  get  a  botty  horse  somewhere  and  try  the 
remedy  before  you  submit  it.  If  you  think  of  publishing  the  antidote  for  a 
certain  poison,  you  should  poison  some  one  and  try  the  antidote  on  him,  in 
order  to  test  it,  before  you  bamboozle  the  readers  of  your  paper. 

This,  of  course,  will  add  a  good  deal  of  extra  work  for  the  editor,  but 
editors  need  more  work.  All  they  do  now  is  to  have  fun  with  each  other, 
draw  their  princely  salaries,  and  speak  sarcastically  of  the  young  poet  who 
eings, 

"  You  have  came  far  o'er  the  sea, 
And  I've  went  away  from  thee." 


5ixty  /T\ii7ute$  \v)  f\fr\(^r\c^3 . 

HE  following  selections  are  from  the  advance  sheets  of  a  forthcoming 


work  with  the  above  title,  to  be  published  by  M.  Foil  de  Koll.  It  is 
possible  that  other  excerpts  will  be  made  from  the  book,  in  case  the 
''^'^  present  harmonious  state  of  affairs  between  France  and  America  is  not 
destroyed  by  my  style  of  translation. 

In  the  preface  M.  Foil  de  EoU  says:  "France  has  long  required  a  book  of 
printed  writings  about  that  large,  wide  land  of  whom  we  listen  to  so 
much  and  yet  so  little  sabe,  as  the  piquant  Californian  shall  say.  America 
is  considerable.  America  I  shall  call  vast.  She  care  nothing  how  high  freedom 
shall  come,  she  must  secure  him.  She  exclaims  to  all  people:  '  You  like  free- 
dom pretty  well,  but  you  know  nothing  of  it.  We  throw  away  every  day  more 
freedom  than  you  shall  see  all  your  life.  Come  to  this  place  when  you  shall 
run  out  of  freedom.  We  make  it.  Do  not  ask  us  for  money,  but  if  you  want 
personal  liberty,  please  look  over  our  vast  stock  before  you  elsewhere  go,' 

"  So  everybody  goes  to  America,  where  he  shall  be  free  to  pay  cash  for  what 
the  American  has  for  sale. 

'*  In  this  book  will  be  found  everything  that  the  French  people  want  to 
know  of  that  singular  land,  for  did  I  not  cross  it  from  New  Jersey  City,  the  town 
where  all  the  New  York  people  have  to  go  to  get  upon  the  cars,  through  to  the 
town  of  San  Francisco  ? 

"For  years  the  writer  of  this  book  has  had  it  in  his  mind  to  go  across 
America,  and  then  tell  the  people  of  France,  in  a  small  volume  costing  one 

franc,  all  about  the  grotesque  land  of  the  freedom  bird." 

********* 

In  the  opening  chapter  he  alludes  to  New  York  casually,  and  apologizes  for 
taking  up  so  much  space. 

"When  you  shall  land  in  New  York,  you  shall  feel  a  strange  sensation. 
The  stomach  is  not  so  what  Ave  should  call  'Rise  up  William  Eiley,'  to  use  an 

(314) 


SIXTY   MINUTES   IN   AMERICA.  315 

Americanism  which  will  not  bear  translation.  I  ride  along  the  Rue  de 
Twenty-three,  and  want  to  eat  everything  my  eyes  shall  fall  upon. 

"I  stay  at  New  York  all  night,  and  eat  one  large  supper  at  6  o'clock,  and 
again  at  9.  At  12  I  awake  and  eat  the  inside  of  my  hektograph,  and  then  lie 
down  once  more  to  sleep.  The  hektograph  will  be  henceforth,  as  the  American 
shall  say,  no  good,  but  what  is  that  when  a  man  is  starving  in  a  foreign 
land? 

"I  leave  New  York  in  the  morning  on  the  Ferry  de  Pavonia,  a  steamer 
that  goes  to  New  Jersey  City.  Many  j^eople  go  to  New  York  to  buy  food  and 
clothes.  Then  you  shall  see  them  return  to  the  woods,  where  they  live  the 
rest  of  the  time.  Some  of  the  females  are  quite  petite  and,  as  the  Americans 
have  it,  'scrumptious.'  One  stout  girl  at  New  Jersey  City,  I  was  told,  was 
'all  wool  and  a  yard  wide.' 

"The  relations  between  New  York  and  New  Jersey  City  are  quite  amicable, 
and  the  inhabitants  seem  to  spend  much  of  their  time  riding  to  and  fro  on 
the  Ferry  de  Pavonia  and  other  steamers.  When  I  talked  to  them  in  their 
own  language  they  would  laugh  with  great  glee,  and  say  they  could  not  parley 
voo  Norwegian  very  good. 

"The  Americans  are  very  fond  of  witnessing  what  may  be  called  the  tour- 
nament de  slug.  In  this,  two  men  wearing  upholstered  mittens  shake  hands, 
and  then  one  strikes  at  the  other  with  his  right  hand,  so  as  to  mislead  him, 
and,  while  he  is  taking  care  of  that,  the  first  man  hits  him  with  his  left  and 
knocks  out  some  of  his  teeth.  Then  the  other  man  spits  out  his  loose  teeth  and 
hits  his  antagonist  on  the  nose,  or  feeds  him  with  the  thumb  of  his  upholstered 
mitten  for  some  time.  Half  the  gate  money  goes  to  the  hospital  where  these 
men  are  in  the  habit  of  being  repaired. 

"One  of  these  men,  who  is  now  the  champion  scrapper,  as  one  American 
author  has  it,  was  once  a  poor  boy,  but  he  was  proud  and  ambitious.  So  he 
practiced  on  his  wife  evenings,  after  she  had  washed  the  dishes,  until  he  found 
that  he  could  '  knock  her  out,'  as  the  American  has  it.  Then  he  tried  it  on 
other  relatives,  and  step  by  step  advanced  till  he  could  make  almost  any  man 
in  America  cough  up  pieces  of  this  upholstered  mitten  which  he  wears  in 
public. 

"In  closing  this  chapter  on  New  York,  1  may  say  that  I  have  not  said  so 
much  of  the  city  itself  as  I  would  like,  but  enough  so  that  he  who  reads  with 
care  may  feel  somewhat  familiar  with  it.     New  York  is  situated  on  the  east 


316  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

side  of  America,  near  New  Jersey  City.  The  climate  is  cool  and  frosty  a  part 
of  the  year,  but  warm  and  temperate  in  the  summer  months.  The  surface  is 
generally  level,  but  some  of  the  houses  are  quite  tall. 

"I  would  not  advise  Frenchmen  to  go  to  New  York  now,  but  rather  to  wait 
until  the  pedestal  of  M.  Bartholdi's  Statue  of  Liberty  has  been  paid  for. 
Many  foreigners  have  already  been  earnestly  permitted  to  help  pay  for  this 
pedestal." 


I^eu.  /T\r.  J^alleldjal^'s  j^oss. 


%rrTf/HEKE  are  a  good  many  difficult  things  to  ride,  I  find,  beside  tlie  bicycle 
^'^  t  and  the  bucking  Mexican  plug.  Those  who  have  tried  to  mount  and 
^^jij!  successfully  ride  a  wheelbarrow  in  the  darkness  of  the  stilly  night 
'^'^      will  agree  with  me. 

You  come  on  a  wheelbarrow  suddenly  when  it  is  in  a  brown  study,  and  you 
undertake  to  straddle  it,  so  to  speak,  and  all  at  once  you  find  the  wheelbarrow 
on  top.  I  may  say,  I  think,  safely,  that  the  wheelbarrow  is,  as  a  rule,  phleg- 
matic and  cool ;  but  when  a  total  stranger  startles  it,  it  spreads  desolation  and 
destruction  on  every  hand. 

This  is  also  true  of  the  perambulator,  or  baby-carriage.  I  undertook  to 
evade  a  child's  phteton,  three  years  ago  last  spring,  as  it  stood  in  the  entrance 
to  a  hall  in  Main  street.  The  child  was  not  injured,  because  it  was  not  in 
the  carriage  at  the  time ;  but  I  was  not  so  fortunate.  I  pulled  pieces  of  per- 
ambulator out  of  myself  for  two  weeks  with  the  hand  that  was  not  disabled. 

How  a  sedentary  man  could  fall  through  a  child's  carriage  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  stab  himself  with  the  awning  and  knock  every  spoke  out  of  three 
wheels,  is  still  a  mystery  to  me,  but  I  did  it.  I  can  show  you  the  doctor's  bill 
now. 

The  other  day,  however,  I  discovered  a  new  style  of  riding  animal.  The 
Rev.  Mr.  Hallelujah  was  at  the  depot  when  I  arrived,  and  w^as  evidently  wait- 
ing for  the  same  Chicago  train  that  I  was  in  search  of.  Rev.  Mr.  Hallelujah 
had  put  his  valise  down  near  an  ordinary  baggage-truck  which  leaned  up 
against  the  wall  of  the  station  building. 

He  strolled  along  the  platform  a  few  moments,  communing  with  himself 
and  agitating  his  mind  over  the  subject  of  Divine  Retribution,  and  then  he 
went  up  and  leaned  against  the  truck.  Finally,  he  somehow  got  his  arms  under 
the  handles  of  the  truck  as  it  stood  up  between  his  back  and  the  wall.  Hq 
still  continued  to  think  of  the  plan  of  Divine  Retribution,  and  you  could  have 
seen  his  lips  move  if  you  had  been  there. 

(317) 


318 


REMARKS    RY    RILL   NYE. 


Pretty  soon  some  young  ladies  came  along,  rosy  in  winter  air,  beautiful 
beyond  compare,  frosty  crystals  in  their  hair;  smiled  they  on  the  preacher 
there. 

He  returned  the  smile  and  bowed  low.  As  he  did  so,  as  near  as  I  can 
figure  it  out,  he  stepped  back  on  the  iron  edge  of  the  truck  that  the  baggage- 
man generally  jabs  under  the  rim 
of  an  iron-bound  sample-trunk 
when  he  goes  to  load  it.  Anyhow, 
Mr.  Hallelujah's  feet  flew  toward 
next  spring.  The  truck  started 
across  the  platform  with  him  and 
spilled  him  over  the  edge  on  the 
track  ten  feet  below.  So  rapid  was 
the  movement  that  the  eye  with 
difficulty  followed  his  evolutions. 
His  valise  was  carried  onward  by  the 
same  wild  avalanch,  and  "busted" 
open  before  it  struck  the  track  be- 
low. 

I  was  surprised  to  see  some  of 
the  articles  that  shot  forth  into 
the  broad  light  of  day.  Among 
the  rest  there  was  a  bran  fired  new 
set  of  ready-made  teeth,  to  be  used  in  case  of  accident.  Up  to  that  moment 
I  didn't  know  that  Mr.  Hallelujah  used  the  common  tooth  of  commerce.  These 
teeth  slipped  out  of  the  valise  with  a  Sabbath  smile  and  vulcanized  rubber 
gums. 

In  striking  the  iron  track  below,  the  every-day  set  which  the  Kev.  Mr. 
Hallelujah  had  in  use  became  loosened,  and  smiled  across  the  road-bed  and 
right  of  way  at  the  bran  fired  new  array  of  incisors,  cuspids,  bi-cuspids  and 
molars  that  flew  out  of  the  valise.  Mr.  Hallelujah  got  up  and  tried  to  look 
merry,  but  he  could  not  smile  without  his  teeth.  The  back  seams  of  his  New- 
market coat  were  more  successful,  however. 

Mr.  Hallelujah's  wardrobe  and  a  small  boy  were  the  only  objects  that  dared 
to  smile. 


A    RAPID    MOVEMENT. 


5o/T)93/T\buli5/T\  apd  ^rim<?. 

fKECENT  article  in   the  London  Post  on  the  subject  of  somnambulism, 
ca]ls  to  my  mind  severallittle  incidents  with  somnambulistic  tendencies 
in  my  own  experience. 
-Q^j;^r'  This  subject  has,  indeed,  attracted  my   attention  for  some  years, 

and  it  has  afforded  me  great  pleasure  to  investigate  it  carefully. 

Eegarding  the  causes  of  dreams  and  somnambulism,  there  are  many  theo- 
ries, all  of  which  are  more  or  less  untenable.  My  own  idea,  given,  of  course, 
in  a  plain,  crude  way,  is  that  thoughts  originate  on  the  inside  of  the  brain  and 
then  go  at  once  to  the  surface,  where  they  have  their  photographs  taken,  with 
the  understanding  that  the  negatives  are  to  be  preserved.  In  this  way  the 
thought  may  afterward  be  duplicated  back  to  the  thinker  in  the  form  of  a 
dream,  and,  if  the  impulse  be  strong  enough,  muscular  action  and  somnambu- 
lism may  result. 

On  the  banks  of  Bitter  Creek,  some  years  ago,  lived  an  open-mouthed  man, 
who  had  risen  from  affluence  by  his  unaided  effort  until  he  was  entirely  free 
from  any  incumbrance  in  the  way  of  property.  His  mind  dwelt  on  this  matter 
a  great  deal  during  the  day.  Thoughts  of  manual  labor  flitted  through  his 
mind,  but  were  cast  aside  as  impracticable.  Then  other  means  of  acquiring 
property  suggested  themselves.  These  thoughts  were  photographed  on  the 
delicate  negative  of  the  brain,  where  it  is  a  rule  to  preserve  all  negatives.  At 
night  these  thoughts  were  reversed  within  the  think  resort,  if  I  may  be  al- 
lowed that  term,  and  muscular  action  resulted.  Yielding  at  last  to  the  great 
desire  for  possessions  and  property  the  somnambulist  groped "  his  way  to  the 
corral  of  a  total  stranger,  and  selecting  a  choice  mule  with  great  dewy  eyes 
and  real  camel's  hair  tail,  he  fled.  On  and  on  he  pressed,  toward  the  dark, 
uncertain  west,  till  at  last  rosy  morn  clomb  the  low,  outlying  hills  and  gikled 
the  gray  outlines  of  the  sage-brush.  The  coyote  slunk  back  to  his  home,  but 
the  somnambulist  did  not. 

He  awoke  as  day  dawned,  and,  when  he  found  himself  astride  the  mule  of 
another,  a  slight  shudder  passed  the   entire  length  of  his   frame.     He  then 

(319) 


320  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

fully  realized  that  he  had  made  his  debut  as  a  somnambulist.  He  seemed  to 
think  that  he  who  starts  out  to  be  a  somnambulist  should  never  turn  back. 
So  he  pressed  on,  while  the  red  sun  stepped  out  into  the  awful  quiet  of  the 
dusty  waste  and  gradually  moved  up  into  the  sky,  and  slowly  added  another 
day  to  those  already  filed  away  in  the  dark  maw  of  ages. 

********* 

Night  came  again  at  last,  and  with  it  other  somnambulists  similar  to  the 
first,  only  that  they  were  riding  on  their  own  beasts.  Some  somnambulists 
ride  their  own  animals,  while  others  are  content  to  bestride  the  steeds  of 
strangers. 

The  man  on  tlie  anonymous  mule  halted  at  last  at  the  mouth  of  a  deep 
canon.  He  did  so  at  the  request  of  other  somnambulists.  Mechanically  he 
got  down  from  the  back  of  the  mule  and  stood  under  a  stunted  mountain  pine. 

After  awhile  he  began  to  ascend  the  tree  by  means  of  his  neck.  "When  he 
had  reached  the  lower  branch  of  the  tree  he  made  a  few  gestures  with  his  feet 
by  a  lateral  movement  of  the  legs.  He  made  several  ineffectual  efforts  to  kick 
some  pieces  out  of  the  horizon,  and  then,  after  he  had  gently  oscilliated  a  few 
times,  he  assumed  a  pendent  and  perpendicular  position  at  right  angles  with 
the  limb  of  the  tree. 

The  other  somnambulists  then  took  the  mule  safely  back  to  his  corral,  and 
the  tragedy  of  a  night  was  over. 

The  London  Post  very  truly  says  that  where  somnambulism  can  be  proved 
it  is  a  good  defense  in  a  criminal  action.     It  was  so  held  in  this  case. 

Various  methods  are  suggested  for  rousing  the  somnambulist,  such  as 
tickling  the  feet,  for  instance ;  but  in  all  my  own  experience,  I  never  knew  of  a 
moreradical  or  permanent  cure  than  the  one  so  imperfectly  given  above.  It  might 
do  in  some  cases  to  tickle  the  feet  of  a  somnambulist  discovered  in  the  act  of 
riding  away  on  an  anonymous  mule,  but  how  could  you  successfully  tickle  the 
soles  of  his  feet  while  he  is  standing  on  them  ?  In  such  cases,  the  only  true 
way  would  be  to  suspend  the  somnambulist  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  free  ac- 
cess to  the  feet  from  below,  and,  at  the  same  time,  give  him  a  good,  wide  hori- 
zon to  kick  at. 


I 


/T\od(?rr>  /^rel7it(^etur<?. 


'T  may  be  premature,  perhaps,  but  I  desire  to  suggest  to  anyone  who  may 
be  contemplating  the  erection  of  a  summer  residence  for  me,  as  a  slight 
testimonial  of  his  high  regard  for  my  sterling  worth  and  symmetrical  es- 
■^^  cutcheon — a  testimonial  more  suggestive  of  earnest  admiration  and  warm 
personal  friendship  than  of  great  intrinsic  value,  etc.,  etc., etc.,  tliat  I  hope  he 
will  not  construct  it  on  the  modern  plan  of  mental  hallucination  and  morbid 
delirium  tremens  peculiar  to  recent  architecture. 

Of  course,  a  man  ought  not  to  look  a  gift  house  in  the  gable  end,  but  if  my 
friends  don't  know  me  any  better  than  to  build  me  a  summer  cottage  and  throw  in 

odd  windows  that  nobody  else  wanted, 
and  then  daub  it  up  with  colors  they 
have  bought  at  auction  and  applied 
to  the  house  after  dark  with  a  shot- 
gun, I  think  it  is  time  that  we  had  a 
better  understanding. 

Such  a  structure  does  not  come 
within  either  of  the  three  classes  of 
renaissance.  It  is  neither  Floren- 
tine, Roman,  or  Venetian.  Any  man 
can  originate  such  a  style  if  he 
will  only  drink  the  right  kind  of 
whiskey  long  enough  and  then  de- 
scribe the  feelings  to  an  amanuensis. 
Imagine  the  sensation  that  one  of 
these  modern,  sawed-ofiP  cottages 
would  create  a  hundred  years  from  now,  if  it  should  survive!  But  tliat  is  im- 
possible. The  only  cheering  feature  of  the  whole  matter  is  tJiat  tliose  crea- 
tures of  a  disordered  imagination  must  soon  pass  away,  and  the  bright  suu- 

(321) 


THE   ARCHITECT. 


322  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

light  of  hard  horse  sense  shine  in  through  the  shattered  dormers  and  gables 
and  gnawed-off  architecture  of  the  average  summer  resort. 

A  friend  of  mine  a  feAY  days  ago  showed  me  his  new  house  with  much 
pride.  He  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  it.  I  told  him  I  liked  it  first-rate. 
Then  I  went  home  and  wept  all  night.     It  was  my  first  falsehood. 

The  house,  taken  as  a  whole,  looked  to  me  like  a  skating  riidv  that  had 
started  out  to  make  money,  and  then  suddenly  changed  its  mind  and  resolved 
to  become  a  tannery.  Then  ten  feet  higher  it  lost  all  self-respect  and  blos- 
somed into  a  full-blown  drunk  and  disorderly,  surrounded  by  the  smokestack 
of  a  foundry  and  the  bright  future  of  thirty  days  ahead  with  the  chain  gang. 
That's  the  Avay  it  looked  to  me. 

The  roofs  were  made  of  little  odds  and  ends  of  misfit  rafters  and  distorted 
shingles  that  somebody  had  purchased  at  a  sheriff's  sale,  and  the  rooms  and 
stairs  were  giddy  in  the  extreme. 

I  went  in  and  rambled  around  among  the  cross-eyed  staircases  and  other 
night-mares  till  reason  tottered  on  her  throne.  Then  I  came  out  and  stood  on 
the  architectural  wart,  called  the  side  porch,  to  get  fresh  air.  This  porch  was 
painted  a  dull  red,  and  it  had  wooden  rosettes  at  the  corners  that  looked  like  a 
new  carbuncle  on  the  nose  of  a  social  wreck. 

Farther  up  on  the  demoralized  lumber  pile  I  saw,  now  and  then,  places 
where  the  w^orkman's  mind  had  wandered  and  he  had  nailed  on  his  clapboards 
wrong  side  up,  and  then  painted  them  with  Paris  green  that  he  had  intended 
to  use  on  something  else. 

It  was  an  odd  looking  structure,  indeed.  If  my  friend  got  all  the  material 
for  nothing  from  people  who  had  fragments  of  paint  and  lumber  left  over  after 
they  failed,  and  then  if  the  workmen  constructed  it  of  night  for  mental  relaxa- 
tion and  intellectual  repose,  without  charge,  of  course  the  scheme  was  a  finan- 
cial success,  but  architecturally  the  house  is  a  gross  violation  of  the  statutes 
in  such  cases  made  and  provided,  and  against  the  peace  and  dignity  of  the 
State. 

There  is  a  look  of  extreme  poverty  about  the  structure  which  a  man  might 
struggle  for  years  to  acquire  and  then  fail.  No  one  could  look  upon  it  with- 
out a  feeling  of  heartache  for  the  man  who  built  that  house,  and  probably 
struggled  on  year  after  year,  building  a  little  at  a  time  as  he  could  steal  the 
lumber,  getting  a  new  workman  each  year,  building  a  knob  here  and  a  protu- 
berance there,  putting  in  a  three-cornered  window  at  one  point  and  a  yellow 


MODERN   ARCHITECTURE.  323 

tile  or  a  wad  of  broken  glass  and  other  debris  at  another,  patiently  filling  in 
around  tlie  ranch  with  any  old  rubbish  that  other  people  had  got  through  with, 
paiiiting  it  as  he  went  along,  taking  what  was  left  in  the  bottom  of  the  pots 
after  his  neighbors  had  painted  their  bob-sleds  or  their  tree  boxes — little  favors 
thankfully  received — and  then  surmounting  the  whole  pile  with  a  potpourri  of 
roof,  and  grand  farewell  incubus  of  humps  and  hollows  for  the  rain  to  wander 
through  and  seek  out  the  different  cells  where  the  lunatics  live  who  inhabit  it. 

I  did  tell  my  friend  one  thing  that  I  thought  Avould  improve  the  looks  of  his 
house.  He  asked  me  eagerly  what  it  could  be.  I  said  it  would  take  a  man  of 
great  courage  to  do  it  for  him.  He  said  he  didn't  care  for  that.  He  would  do  it 
himself.  If  it  only  needed  one  thing  he  would  neve?-  rest  till  he  had  it,  what- 
ever that  might  be. 

Then  I  told  him  that  if  he  had  a  friend — one  he  could  trust — who  would 
steal  in  there  some  night  while  the  family  were  away,  and  scratch  a  match  on 
the  leg  of  his  breeches,  or  on  the  breeches  of  any  other  gentleman  who  hap- 
pened to  be  present,  and  hold  it  where  it  would  ignite  the  alleged  house,  and 
then  remain  near  there  to  see  that  the  fire  department  did  not  meddle  with  it, 
he  would  confer  a  great  favor  on  one  who  would  cheerfully  retaliate  in  kind 
on  call. 


C<^tt<?r  to  a  QDmmupist. 


EAR  SIR. — Your  courteous  letter  of  the  1st  instant,  in 
which  you  cordially  consent  to  share  my  wealth  and  dwell 
together  with  me  in  fraternal  sunshine,  is  duly  received. 
While  I  dislike  to  appear  cold  and  distant  to  one  who 
seems  so  yearnful  and  so  clinging,  and  while  I  do  not  wish 
to  be  regarded  as  purse-proud  or  arrogant,  I  must  decline 
your  kind  offer  to  whack  up.  You  had  not  heard,  very  likely, 
that  I  am  not  now  a  Communist.  I  used  to  be,  I  admit,  and 
the  society  no  doubt  neglected  to  strike  my  name  ofp  the  roll 
of  active  members.  For  a  number  of  years  I  was  quite  active  as  a  Commun- 
ist. I  would  have  been  more  active,  but  I  had  conscientious  scruples  against 
being  active  in  anything  then. 

While  you  may  be  perfectly  sincere  in  your  belief  that  the  great  capitalists 
like  Mr.  Gould  and  Mr.  Vanderbilt  should  divide  with  you,  you  will  have  great 
difficulty  in  making  it  perfectly  clear  to  them.  They  will  probably  demur  and 
delay,  and  hem  and  haw,  and  procrastinate,  till  finally  they  will  get  out  of  it 
in  some  way.  Still,  I  do  not  wish  to  throw  cold  water  on  your  enterprise.  If 
the  other  cajiitalists  look  favorably  on  the  plan,  I  will  cheerfully  co-operate 
with  them.  You  go  and  see  what  you  can  do  with  Mr.  Vanderbilt,  and  then 
come  to  me. 

You  go  on  at  some  length  to  tell  me  how  the  most  of  the  wealth  is  in  the 
hands  of  a  few  men,  and  then  you  attack  those  men  and  refer  to  them  in  a 
way  that  makes  my  blood  run  cold.  You  tell  the  millionaires  of  America  to 
beware,  for  the  hot  breath  of  a  bloody-handed  Nemesis  is  already  in  the  air. 
You  may  say  to  Nemesis,  if  you  please,  that  I  have  a  double-barreled  shot- 
gun standing  at  the  head  of  my  bed  every  night,  and  that  I  am  in  the  Nemesis 
business.  You  also  refer  to  the  fact  that  the  sleuth-hounds  of  eternal  justice 
are  camped  on  the  trail  of  the  pampered  millionaire,  and  you  ask  us  to  avaunt. 
If  you  see  the  other  sleuth-hounds  of  your  society  within  a  week  or  two,  I 
wish  you  would  say  to  them  that  at  a  regular  meeting  of  the  millionaires  of 

(324) 


LETTER   TO   A   COMMUNIST. 


325 


this  country,  after  the  minutes  of  the  previous  meeting  had  been  read  and  ap- 
proved, we  voted  almost  unanimously  to  discourage  any  sleuth-hound  that  we 


PRACTICAL   COMMUNISM, 
found  camped  on  our  trail  after  ten  o'clock,  P.  M.      Sleuth-hounds  Avho  want 
to  ramble  over  our  trails  during  office  hours  may  do  so  with  the  utmost  impu- 


32G  REMARKS   BY    BILL   NYE. 

iiity,  but  after  ten  o'clock  we  Avant  to  use  our  trails  for  otlier  purposes.  No 
man  wants  to  go  to  the  groat  expense  of  maintaining  a  trail  winter  and  sum- 
mer, and  then  leave  it  out  nights  for  other  people  to  use  and  return  it  when 
they  get  ready. 

I  do  not  censure  you,  however.  If  you  could  convince  every  one  of  the 
utility  of  Communism,  it  would  certainly  be  a  great  boon — to  you.  To  those 
who  are  now  engaged  in  feeding  themselves  with  flat  beer  out  of  a  tomato  can, 
such  a  change  as  you  suggest  would  fall  like  a  ray  of  sunshine  in  a  rat-hole, 
but  alas !  it  may  never  be.  I  tried  it  awhile,  but  my  efforts  were  futile.  The 
effect  of  my  great  struggle  seemed  to  be  that  men's  hearts  grew  more  and 
more  stony,  and  my  pantaloons  got  thinner  and  thinner  on  the  seat,  'till  it 
seemed  to  me  that  the  world  never  was  so  cold.  Then  I  made  some  experi- 
ments in  manual  labor.  As  I  began  to  work  harder  and  sit  down  less,  I  found 
that  the  world  was  not  so  cold.  It  was  only  when  I  sat  down  a  long  time  that 
I  felt  how  cold  and  rough  the  world  really  was. 

Perhaps  it  is  so  with  you.  Sedentary  habits  and  stale  beer  are  apt  to  make 
us  morbid.  Sitting  on  the  stone  door  sills  of  hallways  and  public  buildings 
during  cold  weather  is  apt  to  give  you  an  erroneous  impression  of  life. 

Of  course  I  am  willing  to  put  my  money  into  a  common  fund  if  I  can  be 
convinced  that  it  is  best.  I  was  an  inside  passenger  on  a  Leadville  coach  some 
years  ago,  when  a  few  of  your  friends  suggested  that  we  all  put  our  money 
into  a  common  fund,  and  I  was  almost  the  first  one  to  see  that  they  were  right. 
They  went  away  into  the  mountains  to  apportion  the  money  they  got  from  our 
party,  but  I  never  got  any  dividend.  Probably  they  lost  my  post-ojSice  ad- 
dress. 


5l?(^  U/arrior'5  Oratiop. 

;AEKIOES  !  We  are  met  here  to-day  to  celebrate  the  white  man's 
IMl/ MV/l^f  Fourth  of  July,  I  do  not  know  what  the  Fourth  of  July  has  done 
1 J-JF  •  1    ^^^  ^^  ^^^^^  ^^  should  remember  his  birthday,  but  it  matters  not. 

«j>i>^  J  Another  summer  is  on  the  wane,  and  so  are  we.  We  are  the  wall- 
eyed waners  from  Wanetown.  We  have  monopolized  the  wane  business  of  the 
whole  world. 

Autumn  is  almost  here,  and  we  have  not  yet  gone  upon  the  war  path.  The 
pale  face  came  among  us  with  the  corn  planter  and  the  Desert  Land  Act,  and 
we  bow  before  him. 

What  does  the  Fourth  of  July  signify  to  us  ?  It  is  a  hollow  mockery ! 
Where  the  flag  of  the  white  man  now  waves  in  the  breeze,  a  few  years  ago 
the  scalp  of  our  foe  was  hanging  in  the  air.  Now  my  people  are  seldom. 
Some  are  dead  and  others  drunk. 

Once  we  chased  the  deer  and  the  bufPalo  across  the  plains,  and  lived  high. 
Now  we  eat  the  condemned  corned  beef  of  the  oppressor,  and  weep  over  the 
graves  of  our  fallen  braves.  A  few  more  moons  and  I,  too,  shall  cross  over 
to  the  Happy  Beservation. 

Once  I  could  whoop  a  couple  of  times  and  fill  the  gulch  with  warlike  ath- 
letes. Now  I  may  whoop  till  the  cows  come  home  and  only  my  sickly  howl 
comes  back  to  me  from  the  hillsides.  I  am  as  lonely  as  the  greenback  party. 
I  haven't  warriors  enough  to  carry  one  precinct. 

Where  are  the  proud  chieftains  of  my  tribe?  Where  are  Old  Weasel 
Asleep  and  Orlando  the  Hie  Jacet  Promoter?  Where  are  Prickly  Ash  Berry 
and  The  Avenging  Wart  ?  AVhere  are  The  Pioman-nosed  Pelican  and  Goggle- 
eyed  Aleck,  The-man-who-rides-tho-blizzard-bareback  ? 

They  are  extremely  gone.  They  are  extensively  whence.  Ole  Blackhawk, 
in  whose  veins  flows  the  blood  of  many  chiefs,  is  sawing  wood  for  the  Belle  of 
the  West  deadfall  for  the  whiskey.  He  once  rode  the  war  pony  into  the  fray 
and  buried  his  tomahawk  in  the  phrenology  of  his  foe.  Now  he  straddles  the 
saw-buck  and  yanks  the  woodsaw  athwart  the  bosom  of  the  basswood  chunk. 

(327)  • 


328  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

My  people  once  owned  this  broad  land;  but  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  (where 
are  they?)  came  and  planted  the  baked  bean  and  the  dried  aj^jple,  and  my 
tribe  vamoosed.  Once  we  were  a  nation.  Now  we  are  the  tin  can  tied  to  the 
American  eagle. 

"Warriors!  This  should  be  a  day  of  jubilee,  but  how  can  the  man  rejoice 
who  has  a  boil  on  his  nose  ?  How  can  the  chief  of  a  once  proud  people  shoot 
firecrackers  and  dance  over  the  graves  of  his  race?  How  can  I  be  hilarious 
with  the  victor,  on  whose  hands  are  the  blood  of  my  children  ? 

If  we  had  known  more  of  the  white  man,  we  would  have  made  it  red  hot 
for  him  four  hundred  years  ago  when  he  came  to  our  coast.  We  fed  him  and 
clothed  him  as  a  white-skinned  curiosity  then,  but  we  didn't  know  there  were 
so  many  of  him.  All  he  wanted  then  was  a  little  smoking  tobacco  and  love. 
Now  he  feeds  us  on  antique  pork,  and  borrows  our  annuities  to  build  a  Queen 
Anne  wigwam  with  a  furnace  in  the  bottom  and  a  piano  in  the  top. 

Warriors  !  My  words  are  few.  Tears  are  idle  and  unavailing.  If  I  had 
scalding  tears  enough  for  a  mill  site,  I  would  not  shed  a  blamed  one.  The  war- 
rior suffers,  but  he  never  squeals.  He  accepts  the  position  and  says  nothing. 
He  wraps  his  royal  horse  blanket  around  his  Gothic  bones  and  is  silent. 

But  the  pale  face  cannot  tickle  us  with  a  barley  straw  on  the  Fourth  of 
July  and  make  us  laugh.  You  can  kill  the  red  man,  but  you  cannot  make  him 
hilarious  over  his  own  funeral.  These  are  the  words  of  truth,  and  my  warriors 
will  do  well  to  paste  them  in  their  plug  hats  for  future  reference. 


Jl?e  J^oly  Jerror. 


:HILE  in  New  England  trying  in  my  poor,  weak  way  to  represent  the 
"rowdy  west,"  I  met  a  sad  young  man  who  asked  me  if  I  lived  in 
Chi-eene.  I  told  him  that  if  he  referred  to  Cheyenne,  I  had  been 
-'    there  off  and  on  a  good  deal. 

He  said  he  was  there  not  long  ago,  but  did  not  remain.  He  bought  some 
clothes  in  Chicago,  so  that  he  could  appear  in  Chi-eene  as  a  "holy  terror"  when 
he  landed  there,  and  thus  in  a  whole  town  of  "holy  terrors"  he  would  not 
attract  attention. 

I  am  not,  said  he,  by  birth  or  instinct,  a  holy  terror,  but  I  thought  I  would 
like  to  try  it  a  little  while,  anyhow.  I  got  one  of  those  Chicago  sombreros 
with  a  gilt  fried  cake  twisted  around  it  for  a  band.  Then  I  got  a  yellow  silk 
handkerchief  on  the  ten  cent  counter  to  tie  around  my  neck.  Then  I  got  a 
suit  of  smoke-tanned  buckskin  clothes  and  a  pair  of  moccasins.  I  had  never 
seen  a  bad,  bad  man  from  Chi-eene,  but  I  had  seen  pictures  of  them  and  they 
all  wore  moccasins.  The  money  that  I  had  left  I  put  into  a  large  revolver  and 
a  butcher  knife  with  a  red  Morocco  sheath  to  it.  The  revolver  was  too  heavy 
for  me  to  hold  in  one  hand  and  shoot,  but  by  resting  it  on  a  fence  I  could  kill 
a  cow  easy  enough  if  she  wasn't  too  blamed  restless. 

I  went  out  to  the  stock  yards  in  Chicago  one  afternoon  and  practiced  with 
my  revolver.     One  of  my  thumbs  is  out  there  at  the  stock  yards  now. 

At  Omaha  I  put  on  my  new  suit  and  sent  my  human  clothes  home  to  my 
father.  He  told  me  when  I  came  away  that  when  I  got  out  to  Wyoming, 
probably  I  wouldn't  want  to  attract  attention  by  wearing  clothes,  and  so  I  could 
send  my  clothes  back  to  him  and  he  would  be  glad  to  have  them. 

At  Sidney  I  put  on  my  revolver  and  went  into  the  eating  house  to  get  my 
dinner.  A  tall  man  met  me  at  the  door  and  threw  me  about  forty  feet  in  an 
oblique  manner.  I  asked  him  if  he  meant  anytliing  personal  by  that  and  he 
said  not  at  all,  not  at  all.  I  then  asked  him  if  he  would  not  allow  me  to  eat 
my  dinner  and  he  said  that  depended  on  what  I  wanted  for  my  dinner.  If  I 
would  lay  down  my  arms  and  come  back  to  the  reservation  and  remain  neutral 
to  the  Government  and  eat  cooked  food,  it  would  be  all  right,  but  if  I  insisted 
on  eating  raw  dining-room  girls  and  scalloped  young  ladies,  he  would  bar  me  out. 

(329) 


aso 


EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


We  landed  at  Chi-eene  in  the  evening.  They  had  hacks  and  'busses  and 
carriages  till  you  couldn't  rest,  all  standing  there  at  the  depot,  and  a  large 
colored  man  in  a  loud  tone  of  voice  remarked:     "interocean  HO-tel!  !  !  !" 

I  went  there  myself,     It  had  doors  and  windows  to  it,  and  carpets  and  gas. 


r/^^tf-^ 


A   EEAL    COWBOY. 

The  young  man  who  showed  me  to  my  room  was  very  polite  to  me.     He  seemed 
to  want  to  get  acquainted.      He  said: 

"You  are  from  New  Hampshire,  are  you  not?" 

I  told  him  not  to  give  it  away,  but  I  was  from  New  Hampshire.  Then  I 
asked  him  how  he  knew. 

He  said  that  several  New  Hampshire  people  had  been  out  there  that  sum- 
mer, and  they  had  worn  the  same  style  of  revolver  and  generally  had  one  thumb 
done  up  in  a  rag.  Then  he  said  that  if  I  came  from  New  Hampshire  he  would 
show  me  how  to  turn  off  the  gas. 

He  also  took  my  revolver  down  to  the  office  with  him  and  put  it  in  the  safe, 
because  he  said  someone  might  get  into  my  room  in  the  night  and  kill  me 
with  it  if  he  left  it  here.     He  was  a  perfect  gentleman. 


THE   HOLY   TEEEOE.  331 

They  have  a  big  opera  house  there  in  Chi-eeue,  and  while  I  was  there 
they  had  the  Eyetalian  opera  singers,  Patty  and  Nevady  there.  The  streets 
were  lit  up  with  electricity,  and  people  seemed  to  kind  of  politely  look  down 
on  me,  I  thought.  Still,  they  acted  as  if  they  tried  not  to  notice  my  clothes 
and  dime  museum  hat. 

They  seemed  to  look  at  me  as  if  I  wasn't  to  blame  for  it,  and  as  if  they  felt  sor- 
ry for  me.  If  I'd  had  my  United  States  clothes  with  me,  I  could  have  had  a  good 
deal  of  fun  in  Chi-eene,  going  to  the  opera  and  the  lectures,  and  concerts,  et 
cetera.  Bat  finally  I  decided  to  return,  so  I  wrote  to  my  parents  how  I  had  been 
knocked  down  and  garroted,  and  left  for  dead  with  one  thumb  shot  oil',  and 
they  gladly  sent  the  money  to  pay  funeral  expenses. 

With  this  I  got  a  cut-rate  ticket  home  and  surprised  and  horrified  my  par- 
ents by  dropping  in  on  them  one  morning  just  after  prayers.  I  tried  to  get 
there  prior  to  prayers,  but  was  side-tracked  by  my  father's  new  anti-tramp 
bull  dog. 


BostOF)  QD/nmoF)  apd  Ei^uiroQS. 

^7^^l  TKOLLING  through  the  Public  Garden  and  the  famous  Boston  Com- 
^^^  mon,  the  untutored  savage  from  the  raw  and  unpolished  West  is  awed 
]\^)j)  and  his  wild  spirit  tamed  by  the  magnificent  harmony  of  nature  and 
'^^^  art.  Everywhere  the  eye  rests  upon  all  that  is  beautiful  in  nature, 
while  art  has  heightened  the  pleasing  effect  without  having  introduced  the  ar- 
tistic jim-jams  of  a  lost  and  undone  Avorld. 

It  is  a  delightful  place  through  which  to  stroll  in  the  gray  morning  while 
the  early  worm  is  getting  his  just  deserts.  There,  in  the  midst  of  a  great  city, 
with  the  hum  of  industry  and  the  low  rumble  of  the  throbbing  Boston  brain 
dimly  heard  in  the  distance,  nature  asserts  herself,  and  the  weary,  sad-eyed 
stranger  may  ramble  for  hours  and  keep  off  the  grass  to  his  heart's  content. 

Nearly  every  foot  of  Boston  Common  is  hallowed  by  some  historical  inci- 
dent. It  is  filled  with  reminiscences  of  a  time  when  liberty  was  not  overdone 
in  this  new  world,  and  the  tyrant's  heel  was  resting  calmly  on  the  neck  of  our 
forefathers. 

In  the  winter  of  1775-6,  over  110  years  ago,  as  the  ready  mathemati- 
cian will  perceive,  1,700  redcoats  swarmed  over  Boston  Common.  Later  on 
the  local  antipathy  to  these  tourists  became  so  great  that  they  went  away. 
They  are  still  fled.  A  few  of  their  descendants  were  there  when  I  visited  the 
Common,  but  they  seemed  amicable  and  did  not  wear  red  coats.  Their  coats 
this  season  are  made  of  a  large  check,  with  sleeves  in  it.  Their  wardrobe 
generally  stands  a  larger  check  than  their  bank  account. 

The  fountains  in  the  Common  and  the  Public  Garden  attract  the  eye  of  the 
stranger,  some  of  them  being  very  beautiful.  The  Brewer  fountain  on  Flag- 
staff hill,  presented  to  the  city  by  the  late  Gardner  Brewer,  is  very  handsome. 
It  was  cast  in  Paris,  and  is  a  bronze  copy  of  a  fountain  designed  by  Lienard  of 
that  city.  At  the  base  there  are  figures  representing  Neptune  with  his  fabled 
pickerel  stabber,  life  size ;  also  Amphitrite,  Acis  and  Galatea.  Surviving  rela- 
tives of  these  parties  may  well  feel  pleased  and  gratified  over  the  life-like  ex- 
pression which  the  sculptor  has  so  faithfully  reproduced. 

(332) 


BOSTON   COMMON   AND    ENVIRONS.  333 

But  the  Coggswell  fountain  is  probably  the  most  eccentric  squirt,  and  one 
which  at  once  rivets  the  eye  of  the  behoklor,  I  do  not  know  who  designed  it, 
but  am  tokl  that  it  was  modeled  by  a  young  man  who  attended  the  codfish  au- 
topsy at  the  market  daytimes  and  gave  his  nights  to  art. 

The  fountain  proper  consists  of  two  metallic  bullheads  rampart.  They  stand 
on  their  bosoms,  with  their  tails  tied  together  at  the  top.  Their  mouths  are 
abnormally  distended,  and  the  water  gushes  forth  from  their  tonsils  in  a  beau- 
tiful stream. 

The  pose  of  these  classical  codfish  or  bullheads  is  sublime.  In  the  spirited 
Groeco-Roman  tussle  which  they  seem  to  be  having,  with  their  tails  abnormally 
elevated  in  their  artistic  catch-as-catch-can  or  can-can  scufile,  the  desifirner  has 
certainly  hit  upon  a  unique  and  beautiful  impossibility. 

Each  bullhead  also  has  a  tin  dipper  chained  to  his  gills,  and  through  the 
live-long  day,  till  far  into  the  night,  he  invites  the  cosmopolitan  tramp  to  come 
and  quench  his  never-dying  thirst. 

The  frog  pond  is  another  celebrated  watering  place.  I  saw  it  in  the  early 
part  of  May,  and  if  there  had  been  any  water  in  it,  it  would  have  been  a  fine 
sight.     Nothing  contributes  to  the  success  of  a  pond  like  water. 

I  ventured  to  say  to  a  Boston  man  that  I  was  a  little  surprised  to  find  a  lit- 
tle frog  pond  containing  neither  frogs  or  pond,  but  he  said  I  would  find  it  all 
right  if  I  would  call  around  during  ofiice  hours. 

While  sitting  on  one  of  the  many  seats  which  may  be  found  on  the  Com- 
mon one  morning,  I  formed  the  acquaintance  of  a  pale  young  man,  who  asked 
me  if  I  resided  in  Boston,  I  told  him  that  while  I  felt  flattered  to  think  that 
I  could  possibly  fool  anyone,  I  must  admit  that  I  was  only  a  pilgrim  and  a 
stranger. 

He  said  that  he  was  an  old  resident,  and  he  had  often  noticed  that  the  peo- 
ple of  the  Hub  always  Spoke  to  a  Felloe  till  he  was  tired.  I  afterward  learned 
that  he  was  not  an  actual  resident  of  Boston,  but  had  just  completed  his  junior 
year  at  the  State  asylum  for  the  insane.  He  was  sent  there,  it  seems,  as  a 
confirmed  case  of  unjustifiable  Punist.  Therefore  the  governor  had  Punist  him 
accordingly.  This  is  a  specimen  of  our  capitalized  joke  with  Queen  Anne  do- 
funny  on  the  corners.  We  are  shipping  a  great  many  of  them  to  England  this 
season,  where  they  are  greedily  snapped  up  and  devoured  by  the  crowned 
heads.  It  is  a  good  hot  weather  joke,  devoid  of  mental  strain,  perfectly  simple 
and  may  be  laughed  at  or  not  without  giving  the  slightest  offense. 


bruT)\{  \r)  a  piu^  j^at. 


\fpfr'7  HIS  world  is  filled  with  woe  everywhere  you  go.     Sorrow  is  piled  up  in 


^  the  fence  corners  on  every  road.  Unavailing  regret  and  red-nosed  re- 
f  morse  inhabit  the  cot  of  the  tie-chopper  as  well  as  the  cut-glass  cage 
"^"^  of  the  millionaire.  The  woods  are  full  of  disappointment.  The  earth 
is  convulsed  with  a  universal  sob,  and  the  roads  are  muddy  with  tears.  But  I 
do  not  call  to  mind  a  more  touching  picture  of  unavailing  misery  and  ruin, 
and  hopeless  chaos,  than  the  plvig  hat  that  has  endeavored  to  keep  sober  and 
maintain  self-respect  while  its  owner  was  drunk.  A  plug  hat  can  stand  pros- 
perity, and  shine  forth  joyously  while  nature  smiles.  That's  the  place  where 
it  seems  to  thrive.  A  tall  silk  hat  looks  well  on  a  thrifty  man  with  a  clean 
collar,  but  it  cannot  stand  dissipation. 

I  once  knew  a  plug  hat  that  had  been  respected  by  everyone,  and  had  won 
its  way  upward  by  steady  endeavor.  No  one  knew  aught  against  it  till  one 
evening,  in  an  evil  hour,  it  consented  to  attend  a  banquet,  and  all  at  once 
its  joyous  career  ended.  It  met  nothing  but  distrust  and  cold  neglect  every- 
where, after  that. 

Drink  seems  to  make  a  man  temporarily  unnaturally  exhilerated.  During 
that  temporary  exhileration  he  desires  to  attract  attention  by  eating  lobster 
salad  out  of  his  own  hat,  and  sitting  down  on  his  neighbor's. 

The  demon  rum  is  bad  enough  on  the  coatings  of  the  stomach,  but  it  is 
even  more  disastrous  to  the  tall  hat.  A  man  may  mix  up  in  a  crowd  and  carry 
off  an  overdose  of  valley  tan  in  a  soft  hat  or  a  cap,  but  the  silk  h;it  will  pro- 
claim it  upon  the  house-tops,  and  advertise  it  to  a  gaping,  wondering  world. 
It  has  a  way  of  getting  back  on  the  rear  elevation  of  the  head,  or  over  the  bridge 
of  the  nose,  or  of  hanging  coquettishly  on  one  ear,  that  says  to  the  eagle-eyed 
public:  "I  am  chockfuU." 

I  cannot  call  to  mind  a  more  powerful  lecture  on  temperance,  than  the 
silent  pantomime  of  a  man  trying  to  hang  his  plug  hat  on  an  invisible  peg  in 

(331) 


DRUNK   IN   A   PLUG   HAT. 


335 


1  I 


liis  own  hall,  after  lie  had  been  watchin*^  tlie  returns,  a  few  years  ago.  I  saw 
that  he  was  excited  and  nervously  unstrung  when  he  came  in,  but  I  did  not 
fully  realize  it  until  he  began  to  hang  his  hat  on  the  smooth  wall. 

At  first  he  laughed  in  a  good-natured  way  at  his  awkAvardness,  and  hung  it 
up  again  carefully ;  but  at  last  he  became  irritated  about  it,  and  almost  forgot 
himself  enough  to  swear,  but  controlled  himself.  Finding,  however,  that  it 
refused  to  hang  up,  and  that  it  seemed  rather 
restless,  anyhow,  he  put  it  in  the  corner  of  the 
hall  with  the  crown  up,  pinned  it  to  the  floor 
with  his  umbrella,  and  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 
Then  he  took  off  his  overcoat  and,  through  a 
clerical  error,  pulled  off  his  dress-coat  also.  I 
showed  him  his  mistake  and  offered  to  assist 
him  back  into  his  apparel,  but  he  said  he  hadn't 
got  so  old  and  feeble  yet  that  he  couldn't  dress 
himself. 

Later  on  he  came  into  the  parlor,  wearing  a 
linen  ulster  with  the  belt  drooping  behind  him 
like  the  broken  harness  hanging  to  a  ship- 
wrecked and  stranded  mule.  His  wife  looked 
at  him  in  a  way  that  froze  his  blood.  This 
startled  him  so  that  he  stepped  back  a  pace  or 
two,  tangled  his  feet  in  his  surcingle,  clutched 
wildly  at  the  empty  gas-light,  but  missed  it 
and  sat  down  in  a  tall  majolica  cuspidor. 

There  were  three  games  of  whist  going  on  when  he  fell,  and  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  excitement  over  the  playing,  but  after  he  had  been  pulled  out  of 
the  American  tear  jug  and  led  away,  everyone  of  the  twelve  whist-players  had 
forgotten  what  the  trump  was. 

They  say  that  he  has  abandoned  politics  since  then,  and  that  now  he  don't 
care  whether  we  have  any  more  November  elections  or  not.  I  asked  him 
once  if  he  would  be  active  during  the  next  campaign,  as  usual,  and  he  said  he 
thought  not.  He  said  a  man  couldn't  afford  to  be  too  active  in  a  political  cam- 
paign.    His  constitution  wouldn't  stand  it. 

At  that  time  he  didn't  care  much  whether  the  American  people  had  a  presi- 
dent or  not.     If  every  public-spirited  voter  had  got  to  work  himself  up  into  a 


A   POWERFUL   LECTURE. 


336  REMARKS   BY   BILL    NYE. 

state  of  nervous  excitability  and  prostration  where  reason  tottered  on  its  tlirone, 
he  thought  that  we  needed  a  reform. 

Those  who  wished  to  furnish  reasons  to  totter  on  their  thrones  for  the  Na- 
tional Central  Committee  at  so  much  per  tot,  could  do  so;  he,  for  one,  didn't 
propose  to  farm  out  his  immortal  soul  and  plug  hat  to  the  party,  if  sixty  mil- 
lion people  had  to  stand  four  years  under  the  administration  of  a  setting 
hen. 


5prir>(^. 


il^^l  PRING  is  now  here.  It  lias  been  here  before,  but  not  so  much  so,  per- 
cj^^^  haps,  as  it  is  this  year.  In  spring  the  buds  swell  up  and  bust.  The 
5^^^  "violets"  bloom  once  more,  and  the  hired  girl  takes  off  the  double  win- 
^J^  dows  and  the  storm  door.  The  husband  and  father  puts  up  the  screen 
doors,  so  as  to  fool  the  annual  fly  when  he  tries  to  make  his  spring  debut.  The 
husband  and  father  finds  the  screen  doors  and  Avindows  in  the  gloaming  of  the 
garret.  He  finds  them  by  feeling  them  in  the  dark  with  his  hands.  He  finds 
the  rafters,  also,  with  his  head.  When  he  comes  down,  he  brings  the  screens 
and  three  new  intellectual  faculties  sticking  out  on  his  brow  like  the  button  on 
a  barn  door. 

Spring  comes  with  joyous  laugh,  and  song,  and  sunshine,  and  the  burnt 
sacrifice  of  the  over-ripe  boot  and  the  hoary  overshoe.  The  cowboy  and  the 
new  milch  cow  carol  their  roundelay.  So  does  the  veteran  hen.  The  common 
egg  of  commerce  begins  to  come  forth  into  the  market  at  a  price  where  it  can 
be  secured  with  a  step-ladder,  and  all  nature  seems  tickled. 

There  are  four  seasons — spring,  summer,  autumn  and  winter.  Spring  is 
the  most  joyful  season  of  the  year.  It  is  then  that  the  green  grass  and  the 
lavender  pants  come  forth.  The  little  robbins  twitter  in  the  branches,  and  the 
horny-handed  farmer  goes  joyously  afield  to  till  the  soil  till  the  cows  come 
home. — Vir(jil. 

We  all  love  the  moist  and  fragrant  spring.  It  is  then  that  the  sunlight 
waves  beat  upon  the  sandy  coast,  and  the  hand-maiden  beats  upon  the  sandy 
carpet.  The  man  of  the  house  pulls  tacks  out  of  himself  and  thinks  of  days 
gone  by,  when  you  and  I  were  young,  Maggie.  Who  does  not  leap  and  sing 
in  his  heart  when  the  dandelion  blossoms  in  the  low  lands,  and  the  tremulous 
tail  of  the  lambkin  agitates  the  balmy  air? 

The  lawns  begin  to  look  like  velvet  and  the  lawn-mower  begins  to  warm  its 
joints  and  get  ready  for  the  approaching  harvest.  The  blue  jay  fills  the  forest 
with  his  classical  and  extremely  (lu  revoir  melody,  and  the  curculio  craAvls  out 
of  the  plum-tree  and  files  his  bill.     The  plow-boy  puts  on  his  father's  boots 

(337) 


338  EEMAEKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

and  proceeds  to  plow  up  the  cunning  little  angle  worm.  Anon,  tlie  black-bird 
alights  on  the  swaying  reeds,  and  the  lightning-rod  man  alights  on  the  farmer 
with  great  joy  and  a  new  rod  that  can  gather  up  all  the  lightning  in  two  States 
and  put  it  in  a  two-gallon  jug  for  future  use. 

AVho  does  not  love  spring,  the  most  joyful  season  of  the  year  ?  It  is  then 
that  the  spring  bonnet  of  the  Workaday  world  crosses  the  earth's  orbit  and 
makes  the  bank  account  of  the  husband  and  father  look  fatiijued.  The  low 
shoe  and  the  low  hum  of  the  bumble-bee  are  again  with  us.  The  little  striped 
hornet  heats  his  nose  with  a  spirit  lamp  and  goes  forth  searching  for  the  man 
with  the  linen  pantaloons.  All  nature  is  full  of  life  and  activity.  So  is  the 
man  with  the  linen  pantaloons.  Anon,  the  thrush  will  sing  in  the  underbrush, 
and  the  prima  donna  will  do  up  her  voice  in  a  red-flannel  rag  and  lay  it  away. 

I  go  now  into  my  cellar  to  bring  out  the  gladiola  bulb  and  the  homesick 

turnip  of  last  year.     Do  you  see  the  blue  place  on  my  shoulder?     That  is 

where  I  struck  when  I  got  to  the  foot  of  the  cellar  stairs.     The  gladiola  bulbs 

are  looking  older  than  when  I  put  them  away  last  fall.     I  fear  me  they  will 

never  again  bulge  forth.     They  are  wrinkled  about  the  eyes  and  there  are  lines 

of  care  upon  them.     I  could  squeeze  along  two  years  without  the  gladiola  and 

the  oleander  in  the  large  tub.     If  I  should  give  my  little  boy  a  new  hatchet 

and  he  should  cut  down  my  beautiful  oleander,  I  would  give  him  a  bicycle  and 

a  brass  band  and  a  gold-headed  cane. 

O  spring,  spring, 

You  giddy  young  thing.* 


♦From  poems  of  passion  and  one  thing  another,  by  the  author  of  this  sketch. 


Sl^e  Dul^e  of  I^au/I^ide. 

BELIEVE  I've  got  about  the  most  instinct  bulldog  in  the  United 
States,"  said  Cayote  Van  Gobb  yesterday.  "Other  pups  may  show 
cuteness  and  cunning,  you  know,  but  my  dog,  the  Duke  of  Rawhide 

'^'^^  Buttes,  is  not  only  generally  smart,  but  he  keeps  up  with  the  times. 
He's  not  only  a  talented  cuss,  but  his  genius  is  always  fresh  and  original." 

"What  are  some  of  his  specialties,  Van?"  said  I. 

"Oh,  there's  a  good  many  of  'em,  fust  and  last.  He  never  seems  to  be 
content  with  the  achievements  that  please  other  dogs.  You  watch  him  and 
you'll  see  that  his  mind  is  active  all  the  time.  When  he  is  still  he's  working 
up  some  scheme  or  another,  that  he  will  ripen  and  fructify  later  on. 

"For  three  year's  I've  had  a  watermelon  patch  and  run  it  with  more  or 
less  success,  I  reckon.  The  Duke  has  tended  to  'em  after  they  got  ripe,  and 
I  was  going  to  say  that  it  kept  his  hands  pretty  busy  to  do  it,  but,  to  be  more 
accurate,  I  should  say  that  it  kept  his  mouth  full.  Hardly  a  night  after  the 
melons  got  ripe  and  in  the  dark  of  the  moon,  but  the  Dude  would  sample  a 
cowboy  or  a  sheep-herder  from  the  lower  Poudre.  Watermelons  were  gener- 
ally worth  ten  cents  a  pound  along  the  Union  Pacific  for  the  first  tAvo  weeks, 
and  a  fifty -pounder  was  worth  $5.  That  made  it  an  object  to  keep  your  mel- 
ons, for  in  a  good  year  you  could  grow  enough  on  ten  acres  to  pay  off  the 
national  debt. 

"Well,  to  return  to  my  subject.  Duke  would  sleep  days  during  the  sea- 
son and  gather  fragments  of  the  rear  breadths  of  Western  pantaloons  at 
night.  One  morning  Duke  had  a  piece  of  fancy  cassimere  in  his  teeth  that  I 
tried  to  pry  out  and  preserve,  so  that  I  could  identify  the  owner,  perhaps,  but 
he  wouldn't  give  it  up.  I  coaxed  him  and  lammed  him  across  the  face  and 
eyes  with  an  old  board,  but  he  wouldn't  give  it  to  me.  Then  I  watched  him. 
I've  been  watchin'  him  ever  since.  He  took  all  these  fragments  of  goods,  I 
found,  over  into  the  garret  above  the  carriage  shed. 

(839) 


340 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


"Yesterday  I  went  in  there  and  took  a  lantern  with  me.  There  on  the  floor 
the  Duke  of  Eawhide  had  arranged  all  the  samples  of  Kocky  Mountain  pant- 
aloons with  a  good  deal  of  taste,  and  I  don't  suppose  you'd  T)elieve  it,  but 
that  blamed  pup  is  collecting  all  these  little  scraps  to  make  himself  a  crazy 
quilt. 

"You  can  talk  about  instinct  in  animals,  but,  so  far  as  the  Duke  of 
EaAvhide  Buttes  is  concerned,  it  seems  to  me  more  like  all-wool  genius  a  yard 
wide." 


Etiqu(^tt(?  at  J^ot<^Is. 


lo^jTIQUETTE  at  hotels  is  a  subject  that  has  been  but  lightly  treated  upon  by 

-;)|      our  modern  philosophy,  and  yet  it  is  a  subject  that  lies  very  near  to 

every  American  heart.     Had  I  not  alreiady  more  reforms  on  hand  than 

^'"'   I  can  possibly  successfully  operate  I  would  gladly  use  my  strong  social 

influence  and  trenchant  pen  in  that  direction.     Etiquette  at  hotels,  both  on  the 

part  of  the  proprietor,  and  his  hirelings,  and  the  guest,  is  a  matter  that  calls 

loudly  for  improvement. 

The  hotel  waiter  alone,  would  well  repay  a  close  study.  From  the  tardy 
and  polished  loiterer  of  the  effete  East,  to  the  off-hand  and  social  equal  of  the  bud- 
ding West,  all  waiters  are  deserving  of  philosophical  scrutiny.  I  was  thrown 
in  contact  with  a  waiter  in  New  York  last  summer,  whose  manners  were  far 
more  polished  than  my  own.  Every  time  I  saw  him  standing  there  with  his 
immediate  pantaloons  and  swallow-tail  coat,  and  the  far-away,  chastened  look 
of  one  who  had  been  unfortunate,  but  not  crushed,  I  felt  that  I  was  unworthy 
to  be  waited  upon  by  such  a  blue-blooded  thoroughbred,  and  I  often  wished 
that  we  had  more  such  men  in  Congress.  And  when  he  would  take  my  order 
and  go  away  with  it,  and  after  the  meridian  of  my  life  had  softened  into  the  mel- 
low glory  of  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf,  when  he  came  back,  still  looking  quite 
young,  and  never  having  forgotten  me,  recognizing  me  readily  after  the  long, 
dull,  desolate  years,  I  was  glad,  and  I  felt  that  he  deserved  something  more 
than  mere  empty  thanks  and  I  said  to  him:  "Ah,  sir,  you  still  remember  me 
after  years  of  privation  and  suffering.  When  every  one  else  in  New  York  has 
forgotten  me,  with  the  exception  of  the  confidence  man,  you  came  to  me  with 
the  glad  light  of  recognition  in  your  clear  eye.  Would  you  be  offended  if  I 
gave  you  this  trifling  testimonial  of  my  regard?"  at  the  same  time  giving  him 
my  note  at  thirty  days. 

I  wanted  him  to  have  something  by  which  to  always  remember  me,  and 
I  guess  he  has. 

Speaking  of  waiters,  reminds  me  of  one  at  Glendive,  Montana.  We  had 
to  telegraph  ahead  in  order  to  get  a  place  to  sleep,  and  when  we  registered  the 

(341) 


342  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

landlord  shoved  out  an  old  double-entry  journal  for  us  to  record  our  names 
and  postoftice  address  in.  The  office  was  the  bar  and  before  we  could  get  our 
rooms  assigned  us,  we  had  to  wait  forty-five  minutes  for  the  landlord  to  collect 
pay  for  thirteen  drinks  and  lick  a  personal  friend.  Finally,  when  he  got 
around  to  me,  he  told  me  that  I  could  sleep  in  the  night  bar-tender's  bed,  as  he 
Avould  bo  u})  all  night,  and  might  possibly  get  killed  and  never  need  it  again, 
anyhow.  It  would  cost  me  $4  cash  in  advance  to  sleep  one  night  in  the  bar- 
tender's bed,  he  said,  and  the  house  was  so  blamed  full  that  he  and  his  wife 
had  got  to  wait  till  things  kind  of  quieted  down,  and  then  they  would  have  to 
put  a  mattress  on  the  15  ball  pool  table  and  sleep  there. 

I  called  attention  to  my  valuable  valise  that  had  been  purchased  at  great 
cost,  and  told  him  that  he  would  be  safe  to  keep  that  behind  the  bar  till  I 
paid ;  but  he  said  he  wasn't  in  the  second-hand  valise  business,  and  so  I  paid 
in  advance.     It  was  humiliating,  but  he  had  the  edge  on  me. 

At  the  tea  table  I  noticed  that  the  waiter  was  a  young  man  who  evidently 
had  not  been  always  thus.  He  had  the  air  of  one  who  yearns  to  have  some 
one  tread  on  the  tail  of  his  coat.  Meekness,  with  me,  is  one  of  my  charac- 
teristics. It  is  almost  a  passion.  It  is  the  result  of  personal  injuries  received 
in  former  years  at  the  hands  of  parties  who  excelled  me  in  brute  force  and  who 
succeeded  in  drawing  me  out  in  conversation,  as  it  were,  till  I  made  remarks 
that  were  injudicious. 

So  I  did  not  disagree  with  this  waiter,  although  I  had  grounds.  "When  he 
came  around  and  snorted  in  my  ear,  "Salt  pork,  antelope  and  cold  beans,"  at 
the  same  time  leaning  his  full  weight  on  my  back,  while  he  evaded  the  revenue 
laws  by  retailing  his  breath  to  the  guests  without  a  license,  I  thought  I  would 
call  for  what  he  had  the  most  of,  so  I  said  if  he  didn't  mind  and  it  wouldn't 
be  too  much  trouble,  I  would  take  cold  beans. 

I  will  leave  it  to  the  calm,  impassionate  and  unpartisan  reader  to  state 
whether  that  remark  ought  to  create  ill-feeling.  I  do  not  think  it  ought. 
However,  he  was  irritable,  and  life  to  him  seemed  to  be  cold  and  dark.  So  he 
went  to  the  general  delivery  window  that  led  into  the  cold  bean  laboratory,  and 
remarked  in  a  hoarse,  insolent,  and  ironical  tone  of  voice: 

'^Nother  damned  suspicious  looking  character  wants  cold  beans." 


Fifteen  Years  /^part. 

»rWHE  American  Indian  approximates  nearer  to  what  m,an  should  be — 
-^,  -  r|(^  manly,  physically  perfect,  grand  in  character,  and  true  to  the  instincts 
-'■''  jvlf  of  his  conscience — than  any  other  race,  of  beings,  civilized  or  uncivil- 
^  ized.  Where  do  we  hear  such  noble  sentiments  or  meet  with  such 
examples  of  heroism  and  self-sacrifice  as  the  history  of  the  American  Indian 
furnislies?  "Where  siiall  we  go  to  hear  again  such  oratory  as  that  of  Black 
Hawk  and  Logan?  Certainly  the  records  of  our  so-called  civilization  do  not 
furnish  it,  and  the  present  century  is  devoid  of  it. 

They  were  the  true  children  of  the  Great  Spirit.  They  lived  nearer  to  the 
great  heart  of  the  Creator  than  do  their  pale-faced  conquerors  of  to-day  who 
mourn  over  the  lost  and  undone  condition  of  the  sav- 
age. Courageous,  brave  and  the  soul  of  honor,  their 
cruel  and  awful  destruction  from  the  face  of  the  eartii 
is  a  sin  of  such  magnitude  that  the  relics  and  the  peo- 
ple of  America  may  well  shrink  from  the  just  punish- 
ment which  is  sure  to  follow  the  assassination  of  as 
brave  a  race  as  ever  breathed  the  air  of  Heaven. 

I  Avrote  the  above  scathing  rebuke  of  the  x4.meri- 
can  people  when  I  was  15  years  of  age.  I  ran 
across  the  dissertation  yesterday.  As  a  general  rule, 
it  takes  a  youth  15  years  of  age  to  arraign  Con- 
gress and  jerk  the  administration  bald-headed.  The 
less  he  knows  about  things  generally,  the  more  cheer- 
fully will  he  shed  information  right  and  left. 

At  the  time  I  wrote  the  above  crude  attack  upon 
the  government,  I  had  not  seen  any  Indians,  but  I 
had  read  much.  My  blood  boiled  when  I  thought  of 
the  wrongs  which  our  race  had  meted  out  to  the  red 
man.  It  was  at  the  time  when  my  blood  was  just  coming  to  a  boil  that  I 
penned  the  above  paragraph.     Ten  years  later  I  had  changed  my  views  some- 

(343) 


AT    FIFTEEN. 


344  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

Avliat,  relative  to  the  Indian,  and  frankly  wrote  to  the  government  of  the  change, 
AVhen  I  am  doing  the  administration  an  injustice,  and  I  find  it  out,  I  go  to  the 
president  candidly,  and  say:  "Look  here,  Mr.  President,  I  have  been  doing 
you  a  wrong.  You  were  right  and  I  was  erroneous.  I  am  not  pig-headed  and 
stubborn.  I  just  admit  fairly  that  I  have  been  hindering  the  administration, 
and  I  do  not  propose  to  do  so  any  more." 

So  I  wrote  to  Gen.  Grant  and  told  him  that  when  I  was  15  years  of  age  I 
wrote  a  composition  at  school  in  which  I  had  arraigned  the  people  and  the 
administration  for  the  course  taken  toward  the  Indians.  Since  that  time  I  had 
seen  some  Indians  in  the  mountains — at  a  distance — and  from  what  I  had 
seen  of  them  I  was  led  to  believe  that  I  had  misjudged  the  people  and  the 
executive.  I  told  him  that  so  far  as  possible  I  would  like  to  repair  the  great 
wrong  so  done  in  the  ardor  of  youth  and  to  once  more  sustain  the  arm  of  the 
government. 

He  wrote  me  kindly  and  said  he  was  glad  that  I  was  friendly  with  the  gov- 
ernment again,  and  that  now  he  saw  nothing  in  the  way  of  continued  national 
prosperity.  He  said  he  would  preserve  my  letter  in  the  archives  as  a  treaty 
of  peace  between  myself  and  the  nation.  He  said  only  the  day  before  he  had 
observed  to  the  cabinet  that  he  didn't  care  two  cents  about  a  war  wdth  foreign 
nations,  but  he  would  like  to  be  on  a  peace  footing  Avith  me.  The  country 
could  stand  outside  interference  better  than  intestine  hostility.  I  do  not  know 
whether  he  meant  anything  personal  by  that  or  not.      Probably  not. 

He  said  he  remembered  very  well  when  he  first  heard  that  I  had  attacked 
the  Indian  policy  of  the  United  States  in  one  of  my  school  essays.  He  still 
called  to  mind  the  feeling  of  alarm  and  apprehension  which  at  that  time  per- 
vaded the  whole  country.  How  the  cheeks  of  strong  men  had  blanched  and 
the  Goddess  of  Liberty  felt  for  her  back  hair  and  exchanged  her  Mother  Hub- 
bard dress  for  a  new  cast-iron  panoply  of  war  and  Pioman  hay  knife.  Oh,  yes, 
he  said,  he  remembered  it  as  though  it  had  been  yesterday. 

Having  at  heart  the  welfare  of  the  American  people  as  he  did,  he  hoped 
that  I  would  never  attack  the  republic  again. 

And  I  never  have.  I  have  been  friendly,  not  only  personally,  but  officially, 
for  a  good  while.  Even  if  I  didn't  agree  with  some  of  the  official  acts  of  the 
president  I  would  allow  him  to  believe  that  I  did  rather  than  harrass  him  with 
cold,  cruel  and  adverse  criticism.  The  abundant  success  of  this  policy  is 
written  in  the  country's  wonderful  growth  and  prosperous  peace. 


Dessieated  /T\<jle. 


HE  red-eyed  antagonist  of  truth  is  not  found  alone  in  tlie  ranks  of  the 
newspaper  phalanx.     You  run  up  against  him  in  all  walks  of  life.    He 

^1  flourishes  in  all  professions,  and  he  is  ready  at  all  times  to  entertain. 
■^■^  There  is  quite  a  difference  between  a  malicious  falsehood  and  the  dif- 
ferent shades  of  parables,  fables  with  a  moral.  Sabbath-school  books,  newspa- 
per sketches,  and  anecdotes  told  to  entertain. 

A  malicious  lie  is  injurious  personally.  A  business  lie  is  a  falsehood  for 
revenue  only.  But  the  yarns  that  are  spun  around  camp-fires,  in  mining  and 
logging  camps,  to  wdiile  away  a  dull  evening,  are  not  within  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  criminal  code  or  the  home  missionary. 

On  the  train,  yesterday  several  old  lumbermen  were  telling  about  hard 
roads  and  steep  hills,  engineering  skill,  and  so  forth.  Finally  they  told  about 
"snubbing  "  a  loaded  team  down  bad  hills,  and  one  man  said: 

"You  might  'snub'  down  a  cheap  hill,  but  you  couldn't  do  it  on  our  road. 
We  tried  it.  Couldn't  do  a  thing.  Finally  we  got  to  building  snow-sheds 
and  hauling  sand.  You  build  a  snow-shed  that  covers  the  grade,  then  fill  the 
road  in  with  two  feet  of  loose  sand,  and  you're  O.  K,  We  did  that  last  winter, 
and  when  you  drive  a  four- horse  load  of  logs  down  through  them  long  snow- 
sheds  on  bare  ground,  mind  ye,  and  the  bobs  go  plowing  through  the  sand, 
the  sled-shoes  will  make  the  fire  fly  so  that  you  can  read  the  President's  mes- 
sage at  midnight." 

Then  an  old  man  who  went  to  Pike's  Peak  during  the  excitement  and  re- 
turned afterward,  woke  up  and  yawned  two  or  three  times,  and  said  they  used 
to  have  some  trouble,  a  good  many  years  ago,  getting  over  the  range  where 
the  South  Park  road  now  goes  from  dhalk  Creek  Caiion  through  Alpine  Tun- 
nel to  the  Gunnison. 

"We  tried  'snubbing'  and  everything  we  could  think  of,  but  it  was  N.  G. 

(345) 


346  EEMAEKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

"Finally  we  got  hold  of  a  new  kind  of  '  snub'  that  Avorked  pretty  well.  We 
had  a  long  table  made  a-purpose,  that  would  reach  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  from 
/he  top,  and  we'd  tie  a  three-ton  load  to  the  end  at  the  top  of  the  hill ;  then  we 
would  hitch  six  mules  to  the  end  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Well,  the  principle 
of  the  thinyf  was,  that  as  the  load  went  down  on  the  Gunnison  side  it  would 
pull  the  mules  up  the  opposite  side,  tails  first." 

"How  did  it  work?" 

"Oh,  it  worked  all  right  if  the  mules  and  the  load  balanced;  but  one  day  we 
put  on  a  light  mule  named  Emma  Abbott,  and  the  load  got  a  start  down  the 
Gunnison  side  that  made  that  old  cable  sing.  The  wagon  tipped  over  and  con- 
cussed a  keg  of  blasting  powder,  and  that  obliterated  the  rest  of  the  goods. 

"  But  the  air  on  the  other  side  was  full  of  mules.  You  ought  to  seen  'em 
come  up  that  hill ! 

"It  takes  considerable  of  a  crisis  to  affect  the  natural  reserve  of  six  mules; 
but  when  they  saw  how  it  was,  they  backed  up  that  mountain  with  great  en- 
thusiasm. They  didn't  touch  the  ground  but  once  in  three  thousand  feet,  but 
they  struck  the  canopy  of  heaven  several  times. 

"When  the  sky  cleared  up,  we  made  a  careful  inventory  of  the  stock. 

"We  had  a  second-hand  three-inch  cable  and  some  desiccated  mule.  We 
never  went  to  look  for  the  wagon ;  but  when  the  weather  got  warm,  the  Coyotes 
helped  us  find  Emma  Abbott. 

"She  was  hanging  by  the  ear  in  the  crotch  of  an  old  hemlock  tree. 

"Life  was  extinct. 

"We  found  a  few  more  of  the  mules,  but  they  were  fractionaL 

"Emma  Abbott  was  the  only  complete  mule  we  found." 


5i/T\e's  (^\)ar)(^e$. 


FIXED  myself  and  went  out  trout  fishing  on  the  only  original  Kinnickinnick 
river  last  week.  It  was  a  kind  of  Kip  Van  Winkle  picnic  and  farewell 
moonlight  excursion  home.  I  believe  that  Rip  Van  Winkle,  however,  con- 
'^^■^  fined  himself  to  hunting  mostly  with  an  old  musket  that  was  on  the  retired 
list  when  Piip  took  his  sleepy  drink  on  the  Catskills.  If  he  could  have  gone 
with  me  fishing  last  week  over  the  old  trail,  digging  angle-worms  at  the  same 
old  place  where  I  left  the  spade  sticking  in  the  grim  soil  twenty  years  ago — if 
we  could  have  waded  down  the  Kinnickinnick  together  with  high  rubber  boots 
on,  and  got  nibbles  and  bites  at  the  same  places,  and  found  the  same  old  farm- 
ers with  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  added  to  their  lives  and  glistening  in 
their  hair,  we  would  have  had  fun  no  doubt  on  that  day,  and  a  headache  on 
the  day  following.  This  affords  me  an  opportunity  to  say  that  trout  may  be 
caught  successfully  without  a  corkscrew.  I  have  tried  it.  I've  about  decided 
that  the  main  reason  why  so  many  large  lies  are  told  about  the  number  of 
trout  caught  all  over  the  country,  is  that  at  the  moment  the  sportsman  pulls  his 
game  out  of  the  water,  he  labors  under  some  kind  of  an  optical  illusion,  by 
reason  of  which  he  sees  about  nine  trout  where  he  ought  to  see  only  one. 

I  wish  I  had  as  many  dollars  as  I  have  soaked  deceased  angle-worms  in 
that  same  Ijeautiful  Kinnickinnick.  There  was  a  little  stream  made  into  it  that 
we  called  Tidd's  creek.  It  is  still  there.  This  stream  runs  across  Tidd's  farm, 
and  Tidd  twenty  years  ago  wouldn't  allow  anybody  to  fish  in  the  creek.  I  can 
still  remember  how  his  large  hand  used  to  feel,  as  he  caught  me  by  the  nape 
of  the  neck  and  threw  me  over  the  fence  with  my  amateur  fishing  tackle  and 
a  willow  "stringer"  with  eleven  dried,  stiff  trout  on  it.  Last  week  I  thought 
I  would  try  Tidd's  creek  again.  It  was  always  a  good  place  to  fish,  and  I  felt 
the  same  old  excitement,  with  just  enough  vague  forebodings  in  it  to  make  it 
pleasant.  Stiil,  I  had  grown  a  foot  or  so  since  I  used  to  fish  there,  and  per- 
haps I  could  return  the  compliment  by  throwing  the  old  gentleman  over  his 
own  fence,  and  then  hiss  in  ear  "R-r-r-r-e-v-e-n-g-e  !  !  !" 

C347) 


348 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


time's  changes.  349 

I  had  got  pretty  well  across  the  "lower  forty"  and  had  about  decided  that 
Tidd  had  been  gathered  to  his  fathers,  when  I  saw  him  coming  with  his  head 
up  like  a  steer  in  the  corn.  Tidd  is  a  blacksmith  by  trade,  and  he  has  an  arm 
with  hair  on  it  that  looks  like  Jumbo's  hind  leg.  I  felt  the  same  old  desire  to 
climb  the  fence  and  be  alone.  I  didn't  know  exactly  how  to  work  it.  Then  I 
remembered  how  people  had  remarked  that  I  had  changed  very  much  in  twenty 
years,  and  that  for  a  homely  boy  I  had  grown  to  be  a  remarkably  picturesque- 
looking  man.     I  trusted  to  Tidd's  failing  eyesight  and  said: 

"How  are  you?" 

He  said,  "How  are  you?"  That  did  not  answer  my  question,  but  I  didn't 
mind  a  little  thing  like  that. 

Then  he  said:  "I  sposed  that  every  pesky  fool  in  this  country  knew  I 
don't  allow  fishing  on  my  land." 

"That  may  be,"  says  I,  "but  I  ain't  fishing  on  your  land.  I  always  fish 
in  a  damp  place  if  I  can.  Moreover,  how  do  I  know  this  is  your  land?  Car- 
rying the  argument  still  further,  and  admitting  that  every  peesky  fool  knows 
that  you  didn't  allow  fishing  here,  I  am  not  going  to  be  called  a  pesky  fool 
with  impunity,  unless  you  do  it  over  my  dead  body."  He  stopped  about  ten 
rods  away  and  I  became  more  fearless.  "I  don't  know  who  you  are,"  said  I, 
as  I  took  off  my  coat  and  vest  and  piled  them  up  on  my  fish  basket,  eager  for 
the  fray.  "You  claim  to  own  this  farm,  but  it  is  my  opinion  that  you  are  the 
hired  man,  puffed  up  with  a  little  authority.  You  can't  order  me  off  this 
ground  till  you  show  me  a  duly  certified  abstract  of  title  and  then  identify 
yourself.  What  protection  does  a  gentleman  have  if  he  is  to  be  kicked  and 
cuffed  about  by  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry,  claiming  they  own  the  whole  State.  Get 
out!  Avaunt!  If  you  don't  avaunt  pretty  quick,  I'll  kidnap  you  and  sell  you 
to  a  medical  college." 

He  stood  in  dumb  amazement  a  moment,  then  he  said  he  would  go  and  get 
his  deed  and  his  shotgun.  I  said  shotguns  suited  me  exactly,  and  I  told  him 
to  bring  two  of  them  loaded  with  giaiit  powder  and  barbed  wire.  I  would  not 
live  alway.  I  asked  not  to  stay.  When  he  got  behind  the  corn-crib  I  climbed 
the  fence  and  fled  with  my  ill-gotten  gains. 

The  blacksmith  in  his  prime  may  lick  the  small  boy,  but  twenty  years 
changes  their  relative  positions.  Possibly  Tidd  could  tear  up  the  ground  with 
me  now,  but  in  ten  more  years,  if  I  improve  as  fast  as  he  fails,  I  shall  fish  in 
that  same  old  stream  again. 


Ij2tter  prom  fi<?u;  Yorl^. 

^^EAE.  FEIEND. — Being  Sunday,  I  take  an  hour  to  write  you  a  letter  in 
regard  to  this  place.  I  came  here  yesterday  without  attracting  undue 
attention  from  people  who  lived  here.  If  they  was  surprised,  they 
^^       concealed  it  from  me. 

I've  camped  out  on  the  Chug  years  ago,  and  went  to  sleep  with  no  live 
thing  near  me  except  my  own  pony,  and  woke  up  with  the  early  song  of  the 
coyote,  and  have  been  on  the  lonesome  plain  for  days  where  it  seemed  to  me 
that  a  hostile  would  be  mighty  welcome  if  he  would  only  say  something  to  me, 
but  I  was  never  so  lonesome  as  I  was  here  in  this  big  town  last  night,  although  it 
is  the  most  thick  settled  place  I  was  ever  at. 

I  was  so  kind  of  low  and  depressed  that  I  strolled  in  to  the  bar  at  last, 
allowing  that  I  could  pound  on  the  counter  and  call  up  the  boys  and  get 
acquainted  a  little  with  somebody,  just  as  I  would  at  Col.  Luke  Murrin's,  at 
Cheyenne ;  but  when  I  waved  to  the  other  parties,  and  told  them  to  rally  round 
the  foaming  beaker,  they  apologized,  and  allowed  they  had  just  been  to  dinner. 

Just  been  to  dinner,  and  there  it  was  pretty  blamed  near  dark!  Then  I 
asked  'em  to  take  a  cigar,  but  they  mostly  cackillated  they  had  no  occasion. 

I  was  mad,  but  what  could  I  do?  They  was  too  many  for  me,  and  I 
couldn't  coerce  the  white  livered  aristocratic  mob,  for  quicker'n  scat  they  could 
have  hollored  into  a  little  cupboard  they  had  there  in  the  corner,  and  in  less'n 
two  minits  they'd  of  had  the  whole  police  department  and  the  hook  and  ladder 
company  down  there  after  me  with  a  torch-light  procession. 

So  I  swallowed  my  wrath  and  a  tame  drink  of  cultivated  whiskey  with 
Apollo  Belvidere  on  the  side,  and  went  out  into  the  auditorium  of  the  hotel. 

Here  I  was  very  unhappy,  being,  as  the  editor  of  the  Green  Biver  Gazette 
would  say,  "the  cynosure  of  all  eyes." 

I  would  rather  not  be  a  cynosure,  even  at  a  good  salary ;  so  I  thought  I 
would  ask  the  proprietor  to  build  a  fire  in  my  room.  I  went  up  to  the  record- 
er's office,  where  the  big  hotel  autograft  album  is,  and  asked  to  see  the  pro- 
prietor. 

(350) 


LETTEE   FROM   NEW   YORK.  851 

A  good-looking  young  man  came  forward  and  asked  me  wliat  he  could  do 
for  me.  I  said  if  it  wouldn't  be  too  much  trouble,  I  wisht  he  would  build  a 
little  fire  in  my  room,  and  I  would  pay  him  for  it;  or,  if  he  Avould  show  me 
where  the  woodpile  was,  I  would  build  the  fire  myself — I  wasn^t  doing  any- 
thing special  at  that  time. 

He  then  whistled  through  his  teeth  and  crooked  his  finger  in  a  shrill  cone 
of  voice  to  a  young  party  who  was  working  for  him,  and  told  him  to  "build  a 
fire  in  four-oviglit-two." 

I  then  sat  down  in  the  auditorium  and  read  out  of  a  railroad  tract,  which 
undertook  to  show  that  a  party  that  undertook  to  ride  over  a  rival  road,  must  do 
so  because  life  was  a  burden  to  him,  and  facility,  and  comfort,  and  safety,  and 
such  things  no  object  whatever.  But  still  I  was  very  lonely,  and  felt  as  if  I 
was  far,  far  away  from  home. 

I  couldn't  have  been  more  uncomfortable  if  I'd  been  a  young  man  I  saw 
twenty-five  years  ago  on  the  old  overland  trail.  He  had  gone  out  to  study  the 
Indian  character,  and  to  win  said  Indian  to  the  fold.  "When  I  next  saw  him  he 
was  twenty  miles  farther  on.  He  had  been  thrown  in  contact  with  said  In- 
dian in  the  meantime.  I  judged  he  had  been  making  a  collection  of  Indian 
arrows.  He  was  extremely  no  more.  He  looked  some  like  Saint  Sebastian, 
and  some  like  a  toothpick-holder. 

I  was  never  successfully  lost  on  the  plains,  and  so  I  started  out  after  sup- 
per to  find  my  room.  I  found  a  good  many  other  rooms,  antl  tried  to  get  into 
them,  but  I  did  not  find  four-ought-two  till  a  late  hour ;  then  I  subsidized  the 
night  patrol  on  the  third  floor  to  assist  me. 

This  is  a  nice  place  to  stop,  but  it  is  a  little  too  rich  for  my  blood,  I  guess 
Not  so  much  as  regards  price,  but  I  can  see  that  I  am  beginning  to  excite 
curiosity  among  the  boarders.  People  are  coming  here  to  board  just  because 
I  am  here,  and  it  is  disagreeable.  I  do  not  court  notoriety.  I  have  always 
lived  in  a  plain  way,  and  I  would  give  a  dollar  if  people  would  look  the  other 
way  while  I  eat  my  pie.  Yours  truly,  E.  O.  D. 

To  E.  Wm.  Nye,  Esq. 

P.  S. — This  is  not  a  dictated  letter.  I  left  my  stenograffer  and  revolver  at 
Pumpkin  Buttes.  E.  O.  D. 


„  »„UEING  the  hot  weather  very  few  crowns  are  worn  this  season,  and  a 
few  hints  as  to  the  care  of  the  crown  itself  may  not  be  out  of  place. 


The  crown  should  not  be  carelessly  hung  on  the  hat  rack  in  the  royal 
hall  for  the  flies  to  roost  upon,  but  it  should  be  thoroughly  cleaned  and 
put  away  as  soon  as  the  weather  becomes  too  hot  to  wear  it  comfortably. 

Great  care  should  be  used  in  cleaning  a  gold-plated  crown,  to  avoid  wear- 
ing out  the  plate.  Take  a  good  stiff  tooth  brush,  with  a  little  soapsuds,  and 
clean  the  crown  thoroughly  at  first,  drying  it  on  a  clean  towel  and  taking  care 
not  to  drop  it  on  the  floor  and  thus  knock  the  moss-agate  diadem  loose.  Next, 
get  a  sleeve  of  the  royal  undershirt,  or,  in  case  you  can  not  procure  one  readily, 
the  sleeve  of  a  duke  or  right-bower  may  be  used.  Soak  this  in  vinegar,  and, 
with  a  coat  of  whiting,  polish  the  crown  thoroughly,  wrap  it  in  cotton-flannel 
and  put  in  the  bureau.  Sometimes,  the  lining  of  the  crown  becomes  saturated 
with  hair-oil  from  constant  use  and  needs  cleaning.  In  such  cases  the  lining 
may  be  removed,  boiled  in  concentrated  lye  two  hours,  or  until  tender,  and  then 
placed  on  the  grass  to  bleach  in  the  sun. 

Most  crowns  are  size  six-and-seven-eights,  and  they  are  therefore  fre- 
quently too  large  for  the  number  six  head  of  royalty.  In  such  cases  a  news- 
paper may  be  folded  lengthwise  and  laid  inside  the  sweat-band  of  the  crown, 
thus  reducing  the  size  and  preventing  any  accident  by  which  his  or  her  ma- 
jesty might  lose  the  crown  in  the  coal-bin  while  doing  chores. 

After  the  Fourth  of  July  and  other  royal  holidays,  this  newspaper  may  be 
removed,  and  the  crown  will  be  found  none  too  large  for  the  imperial  dome  of 
thought. 

Sceptres  may  be  cleaned  and  wrapped  in  woolen  goods  during  the  hot 
months.  The  leg  of  an  old  pair  of  pantaloons  makes  a  good  retort  to  run  a 
sceptre  into  while  not  in  use.  Never  try  to  kill  flies  or  drive  carpet  tacks  with 
the  sceptre.  It  is  an  awkward  tool  at  best,  and  you  might  easily  knock  a 
thumb  nail  loose.     Great  care  should  also  be  taken  of  the  royal  robe.     Do  not 

(35a) 


CROWNS    AND    CROWNED    HEADS. 


353 


use  it  for  a  lap  robe  while  dining,  nor  sleep  in  it  at  night.  Nothing  looks  more 
repugnant  than  a  king  on  the  throne,  with  little  white  feathers  all  over  his 
robe.  ■■> 

It  is  equally  bad  taste  to  govern  a  kingdom  in  a  maroon  robe  with  white 
horse  hairs  all  over  it. 

I  once  knew  a  king  who  invariably  curried  his  horses  in  his  royal  robes ; 
and  if  the  steeds  didn't  stand  around  to  suit  him,  he  would  ever  and  anon  welt 
them  in  the  pit  of  the  stomach  with  his  cast-iron  sceptre,     It  was  greatly  to  the 


A   HARD-WORKING   MONARCH. 

interest  of  his  horses  not  to  incur  the  royal  displeasure,  as  the  reader  has  no 
doubt  already  surmised. 

The  robe  of  the  king  should  only  be  worn  while  his  majesty  is  on  the 
throne.  When  he  comes  down  at  night,  after  his  day's  work,  and  goes  out 
after  his  coal  and  kindling-wood,  he  may  take  off  his  robe,  roll  it  up  carefully, 
and  stick  it  under  the  throne,  where  it  will  be  out  of  sight.  Nothing  looks 
more  untidy  than  a  fat  king  milking  a  bobtail  cow  in  a  Mother  Hubbard  robe 
trimmed  with  imitation  ermine. 


(T\y  pf7ysi(;ia9. 


L  An  Open  Letter.] 

feEAK  SIR:  I  liave  seen  recently  an  open  letter  addressed  to  me,  and 
)/PJ  written  by  you  in  a  vein  of  confidence  and  strictly  sub  rosa.  What 
■^  you  said  was  so  strictly  confidential,  in  fact,  that  you  published  the 
%^  letter  in  New  York,  and  it  was  copied  through  the  press  of  the  country. 
I  shall,  therefore,  endeavor  to  be  equally  careful  in  writing  my  reply. 

You  refer  in  your  kind  and  confidential  note  to  your  experience  as  an 
invalid,  and  your  rapid  recovery  after  the  use  of  red-hot  Mexican  pepper  tea 
in  a  molten  state. 

But  you  did  not  have  such  a  physician  as  I  did  when  I  had  spinal  menin- 
gitis. He  was  a  good  doctor  for  horses  and  blind  staggers,  but  he  was  out  of 
his  sphere  when  he  strove  to  fool  with  the  human  frame.  Change  of  scene 
and  rest  were  favorite  prescriptions  of  his.  Most  of  his  patients  got  both, 
especially  eternal  rest.     He  made  a  specialty  of  eternal  rest. 

He  did  not  know  what  the  matter  was  with  me,  but  he  seemed  to  be  willing 
to  learn. 

My  wife  says  that  while  he  was  attending  me  I  was  as  crazy  as  a  loon,  but 
that  I  was  more  lucid  than  the  physician.  Even  with  my  little,  shattered 
wreck  of  mind,  tottering  between  a  superficial  knowledge  of  how  to  pound  sand 
and  a  wide,  shoreless  ssa  of  mental  vacuity,  I  still  had  the  edge  on  my  physician, 
from  an  intellectual  point  of  view.  He  is  still  practicing  medicine  in  a  quiet 
kind  of  way,  weary  of  life,  and  yet  fearing  to  die  and  go  where  his  patients  are. 

He  had  a  snbre  wound  on  one  cheek  that  gave  him  a  ferocious  appearance. 
He  frequently  alluded  to  how  he  used  to  mix  up  in  the  carnage  of  battle,  and 
how  he  used  to  roll  up  his  pantaloons  and  wade  in  gore.  He  said  that  if  the 
tocsin  of  war  should  sound  even  now,  or  if  he  were  to  wake  up  in  the  night 
and  hear  war's  rude  alarum,  he  would  spring  to  arms  and  make  tyranny  trem- 
ble till  its  suspender  buttons  fell  off. 

Oil,  he  was  a  bad  man  from  Bitter  Creek. 

(354) 


MY   PHYSICIAN. 


855 


"  PHYSICIAN,   HEAL  THYSELF.' 


One  day  I  learned  from  an  old  neighbor  that  this  physician  did  not  have 
anything  to  do  with  preserving  the  Union  intact,  but  that  he  acquired  the  scar 
on  his  cheek  while  making  some  experiments  as  a  drunk  and  disorderly.  He 
would  come  and  sit  by  my  bedside  for  hours,  waiting  for  this  mortality  to  put 
on  immortality,  so  that  he  could  collect  his  bill  from  the  estate,  but  one  day  I 
arose  during  a  temporary  delirium,  and 
extracting  a  slat  from  my  couch  I  smote 
him  across  the  pit  of  the  stomach  with  it, 
while  I  hissed  through  my  clenched  teeth : 
"Physician,  heal  thyself." 
I  then  tottered  a  few  minutes,  and  fell 
back  into  the  arms  of  my  attendants.  If 
you  do  not  believe  this,  I  can  still  show  you 
the  clenched  teeth.  Also  the  attendants. 
I  had  a  hard  time  with  this  physician, 
but  I  still  live,  contrary  to  his  earnest  so- 
licitations. 

I  desire  to  state  that  should  this  letter  creep  into  the  press  of  the  country, 
and  thus  become  in  a  measure  public,  I  hope  that  it  will  create  no  ill-feeling 
on  your  part. 

Our  folks  are  all  well  as  I  write,  and  should  you  happeji  to  be  on  Lake 
Superior  this  winter,  yachting,  I  hope  you  will  drop  in  and  see  us.  Our  latch 
string  is  hanging  out  most  all  the  time,  and  if  you  will  pound  on  the  fence  I 
will  call  off  the  dog. 

I  frequently  buy  a  copy  of  your  paper  on  the  streets.     Do  you  get  the  money  ? 

Are  you  acquainted  with  the  staff  of  TJie  Century,  published  in  New  York? 
I  was  in  TJie  Century  office  several  hours  last  spring,  and  the  editors  treated 
me  very  handsomely,  but,  although  I  have  bought  the  magazine  ever  since,  and 
read  it  thoroughly,  I  have  not  seen  yet  where  they  said  that  "tliey  had  a 
pleasant  call  from  the  genial  and  url)ane  William  Nye."  I  do  not  feel  offended 
over  this.     I  simply  feel  hurt. 

Before  that  I  had  a  good  notion  to  write  a  brief  epic  on  the  "Warty  Toad," 
and  send  it  to  The  Century  for  publication,  but  now  it  is  quite  doubtful. 

The  Century  may  be  a  good  paper,  but  it  does  not  take  the  press  dis- 
patches, and  only  last  month  I  saw  in  it  an  account  of  a  battle  that  to  my  cer- 
tain knowledge  occurred  twenty  years  ago. 


f\\\  f\bou\:  Oratory. 


'iPl^WENTY  centuries  ago  last  Christmas  there  was  T3orn  in  Attica,  near 
<^'fl\k^  Athens,  the  father  of  oratory,  the  greatest  orator  of  whom  history  has 
/|Ji  AT  ^^YS.  us.  His  name  was  Demosthenes.  Had  he  lived  until  this  spring, 
^  he  would  have  been  2,270  years  old;  but  he  did  not  live.  Demosthe- 
nes has  crossed  the  mysterious  river.  He  has  gone  to  that  bourne  whence  no 
traveler  returns. 

Most  of  you,  no  doubt,  have  heard  about  it.  On  those  who  may  not  have 
heard  it,  the  announcement  will  fall  with  a  sickening  thud. 

This  sketch  is  not  intended  to  cast  a  gloom  over  your  hearts.  It  was  de- 
signed to  cheer  those  who  read  it  and  make  them  glad  they  could  read. 

Therefore,  I  would  have  been  glad  if  I  could  have  spared  them  the  pain  which 
this  sudden  breaking  of  the  news  of  the  death  of  Demosthenes  will  bring.  But 
it  could  not  be  avoided.  We  should  remember  the  transitory  nature  of  life, 
and  when  we  are  tempted  to  boast  of  our  health,  and  strength,  and  wealth,  let 
us  remember  the  sudden  and  early  death  of  Demosthenes. 

Demosthenes  was  not  born  an  orator.  He  struggled  hard  and  failed  many 
times.  He  was  homely,  and  he  stammered  in  his  speech ;  but  before  his  death 
they  came  to  him  for  hundreds  of  miles  to  get  him  to  open  their  county  fairs, 
and  jerk  the  bird  of  freedom  bald-headed  on  the  Fourth  of  July. 

When  Demosthenes'  father  died,  he  left  fifteen  talents  to  be  divided  be- 
tween Demosthenes  and  his  sister.  A  talent  is  equal  to  about  $1,000.  I  often 
wish  I  had  been  born  a  little  more  talented. 

Demosthenes  had  a  short  breath,  a  hesitating  speech,  and  his  manners 
were  very  ungraceful.  To  remedy  his  stammering,  he  filled  his  mouth  full  of 
pebbles  and  howled  his  sentiments  at  the  angry  sea.  However,  Plutarch  says 
that  Demosthenes  made  a  gloomy  fizzle  of  his  first  speech.  This  did  not  dis- 
courao"e  him.  He  finally  became  the  smoothest  orator  in  that  country,  and  it 
was  no  uncommon  thing  for  him  to  fill  the  First  Baptist  Church  of  Athens 

(356) 


ALL   ABOUT    ORATORY.  357 

full.     There  are  now  sixty  of  his  orations  extant,  part  of  them  written  by  De- 
mosthenes and  part  of  them  written  by  his  private  secretary. 

When  he  started  in,  he  was  gentle,  mild  and  quiet  in  liis  manner;  but  later 
on,  carrying  his  audience  Avith  him,  he  at  last  became  enthusiastic.  He  thun- 
dered, he  roared,  he  whooped,  he  howled,  he  jarred  the  windows,  he  sawed  the 
air,  he  split  the  horizon  with  his  clarion  notes,  he  tipped  over  the  table, 
kicked  the  lamps  out  of  the  chandeliers  and  smashed  the  big  bass  viol  over 
the  chief  fiddler's  head. 

Oh,  Demosthenes  was  business  when  he  got  started.  It  will  be  a  long  time 
before  we  see  another  off-hand  speaker  like  Demosthenes,  and  I,  for  one,  have 
never  been  the  same  man  since  I  learned  of  his  death. 

"Such  was  the  first  of  orators,"  says  Lord  Brougham.  "  At  the  head  of  all 
the  mighty  masters  of  speech,  the  adoration  of  ages  has  consecrated  his  place, 
and  the  loss  of  the  noble  instrument  with  which  he  forged  and  launched  his 
thunders,  is  sure  to  maintain  it  unapproachable  forever." 

I  have  always  been  a  great  admirer  of  the  oratory  of  Demosthenes,  and 
those  who  have  heard  both  of  us,  think  there  is  a  certain  degree  of  similarity 
in  our  style. 

And  not  only  did  I  admire  Demosthenes  as  an  orator,  but  as  a  man ;  and, 
though  I  am  no  Vanderbilt,  I  feel  as  though  I  would  be  willing  to  head  a  sub- 
scription list  for  the  purpose  of  doing  the  square  thing  by  his  sorrowing  wife, 
if  she  is  left  in  want,  as  I  understand  that  she  is. 

I  must  now  leave  Demosthenes  and  pass  on  rapidly  to  speak  of  Patrick 
Henry. 

Mr.  Henry  was  the  man  who  wanted  liberty  or  death.  He  preferred 
liberty,  though.  If  he  couldn't  have  liberty,  he  wanted  to  die,  but  he  was  in 
no  great  rush  about  it.  He  would  like  liberty,  if  there  was  plenty  of  it ;  but 
if  the  British  had  no  liberty  to  spare,  he  yearned  for  death.  When  the  tyrant 
asked  him  what  style  of  death  he  wanted,  he  said  that  he  would  rather  die  of  ex- 
treme old  age.  He  was  willing  to  wait,  he  said.  He  didn't  want  to  go  unpre- 
pared, and  he  thought  it  would  take  him  eighty  or  ninety  years  more  to  pre- 
pare, so  that  when  he  was  ushered  into  another  world  he  wouldn't  be  ashamed 
of  himself. 

One  hundred  and  ten  years  ago,  Patrick  Henry  said:  "Sir,  our  chains  are 
forged.  Their  clanking  may  be  heard  on  the  plains  of  Boston.  The  war  is 
inevitable,  and  let  it  come.     I  repeat  it,  sir,  let  it  come!" 


358 


BEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


In  tlie  spring  o£  1860,  I  used  almost  the  same  language.  So  did  Horace 
Greeley.  There  were  four  or  five  of  us  who  got  our  heads  together  and  de- 
cided that  the  war  was  inevitable,  and  consented  to  let  it  come. 

Then  it  came.  Whenever  there  is  a  large,  inevitable  conflict  loafing  around 
waiting  for  permission  to  come,  it  devolves  on  the  great  statesmen  and  bald- 
headed  literati  of  the  nation  to  avoid  all  delay.  It  was  so  with  Patrick  Henry. 
He  permitted  the  land  to  be  deluged  in  gore,  and  then  he  retired.  It  is  the 
duty  of  the  great  orator  to  howl  for  war,  and  then  hold  some  other  man's  coat 
while  he  fights. 


5trabis/T\us  a[)d  Ju$tiee. 

4^^VEE  in  St.  Paul  I  met  a  man  with  eyes  of  cadet  blue  and  a  terra  cotta 

4f  iJj'\r]    nose.     His  eyes  were  not  only  peculiar  in  shape,  but  while  one  seemed 

S^zJl    *°  constantly  probe  the  future,  the  other  was  apparently  ransacking  the 

"ii' "'  dreamy  past.  While  one  rambled  among  the  glorious  possibilities  of 
the  remote  yet  golden  iiltimately,  the  other  sought  the  somber  depths  of  the 
previously. 

He  tt)l(l  me  that  years  ago  he  had  a  mild  case  of  strabismus  and  that  both 
eyes  seemed  to  glare  down  his  nose  till  he  got  restless  and  had  them  operated 
on.  Those  were  the  days  when  they  used  to  fasten  a  crochet  hook  under 
the  internal  rectus  muscle  and  cut  it  a  little  with  a  pair  of  optical  sheep  shears. 
The  efPect  of  this  course  was  to  allow  the  eye  to  drift  back  to  a  direct  line ;  but 
this  man  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  drunken  suri^eon  who  cut  the  muscle  too 
much,  and  thereby  weakened  it  so  that  it  gradually  swung  past  the  point  it 
ought  to  have  stopped  at,  and  he  saw  with  horror  that  his  eye  was  going  to 
turn  out  and  protrude,  as  it  were,  so  that  a  man  could  hang  his  hat  on  it.  The 
other  followed  suit,  and  the  two  orbs  that  had  for  years  looked  along  the  bridge 
of  the  terra  cotta  nose,  gradually  separated,  and  while  one  looked  toward  next 
Christmas  with  fond  anticipations,  the  other  loved  to  linger  over  the  remem- 
brances of  last  fall. 

This  thing  continued  till  he  had  to  peer  into  the  future  with  his  off  eye 
closed,  and  vice  versa. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  he  hungered  for  the  blood  of  that  physician  and 
surgeon.  He  tried  to  lay  violent  hands  on  him  and  wipe  up  the  ground  with 
him  and  wear  him  out  across  a  telegraph  pole.  But  the  authorities  always 
prevented  the  administration  of  swift  and  lawful  justice. 

Time  passed  on,  till  one  night  the  abnormal  wall-eyed  man  loosened  a  board 
in  the  sidewalk  up  town  so  that  the  physician  and  surgeon  caught  his  foot  in 
it  and  caused  an  oblique  fracture  of  the  scapula,  pied  his  dura  mater,  busted 
his  cornucopia  and  wrecked  his  sarah-bellum. 

(359) 


3C0  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

Perhaps  I  am  in  error  as  to  some  of  these  medical  terms  and  their  orthog- 
raphy, but  that  is  about  the  way  the  man  with  the  divergent  orbs  tokl  it  to  me. 

The  physician  and  surgeon  was  quite  a  ruin.  He  had  to  wear  clapboards 
on  himself  for  months,  and  there  were  other  doctors,  and  laudable  pus  and 
threatened  gangrene  and  doctors'  bills,  with  the  cemetery  looming  up  in  the 
near  future.  Day  after  day  he  took  his  own  anti-febrile  drinks,  and  rammed 
his  busted  system  full  of  iron  and  strychnine  and  beef  tea  and  dover's  powders 
and  hypodermic  squirt  till  he  wished  he  could  die,  but  death  would  not  come. 
He  pawed  the  air  and  howled.  They  fed  him  his  own  nux  vomica,  tincture  of 
rhubarb  and  phosphates  and  gruel,  and  brought  him  back  to  life  with  a  crooked 
collar  bone,  a  shattered  shoulder  blade  and  a  look  of  woe. 

Then  he  sued  the  town  for  $50,000  damages  because  the  sidewalk  was  im- 
perfect, and  the  wild-eyed  man  with  the  inflamed  nose  got  on  the  jury. 

I  will  not  explain  how  it  was  done,  but  there  was  a  verdict  for  defendant 
with  costs  on  the  Esculapian  wreck.  The  man  with  the  crooked  vision  is  not 
handsome,  but  he  is  very  happy.  He  says  the  mills  of  the  gods  grind  slowly, 
but  they  pulverize  middling  fine. 


f\  5p69eeria9  f\8S. 


V>FTEPt  I  had  accumulated  a  liaiidsome  competence  as  city  editor  of  the 
old  Morning  Senfincl  at  Laramie   City,  and  had  married  and  gone  to 
■  I  ^\.    housekeeping  with  a  gas  stove  and  other  luxuries,  my  place  on  the  Scm- 

'  '"  Unci  was  taken  by  a  newspaper  man  named  Hopkins,  who  had  just 
graduated  from  a  business  college,  ami  who  brought  a  nice  glazed  grip  sack 
and  a  di})loma  with  him  that  had  never  been  used. 

Hopkins  wrote  a  fine  S})encerian  hand  and  wore  a  black  and  tan  dog  wliere- 
ever  he  went.  The  boys  were  willing  to  overlook  his  copper-plate  hand,  but 
they  drew  the  line  at  the  dog. 
He  not  only  wrote  in  beautiful  '  i  i/a^:  ^^^^^^s^-  ' 
style,  but  he  copied  his  manuscript, 
so  that  when  it  went  iii  to  the 
printer  it  was  as  pretty  as  a  wed- 
ding invitation. 

Hopkins  ran  the  city  page  nine 
days,  and  then  he  came  into  the 
city  hall  where  I  was  trying  a 
simple  drunk  and  bade  me  adieu. 

I  just  say  this  to  show  how 
difficult  it  is  for  a  fine  penman  to 
get  ahead  as  a  journalist.  Of  course 
good,  readable  writers  like  Knox 
and  John  Hancock  may  become 
great,  but  they  have  to  be  men  of 
sterling  ability  to  start  with. 

I  have  some  of  the  most  blood- 
curdling horrors  preserved  for  the 
purpose  of  showing  Hopkins'  won- 
derful and  vivid  style.     I  will  throw  them  in. 

"A  little  son  of  our  esteemed  fellow  townsman,  J.  H.  Hayford,  suffered 
greatly  last  evening  with  virulent  colic,  but  this  A.  M.,  as  we  go  to  press,  is 
sleeping  easily." 

(361) 


HE   THREW    ME    OUT. 


362  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Think  of  shaking  the  social  foundations  of  a  mountain  mining  and  stock 
town  with  such  grim,  nervous  prostrators  as  that!  The  next  day  he  startled 
Southern  AVyoming  and  Northern  Colorado  and  Utah  with  the  maddening 
statement  that  "our  genial  friend,  Leopold  Gussenhoven's  fine,  yellow  dog, 
Florence  Nightingale,  had  been  seriously  threatened  with  insomnia." 

That  was  the  style  of  mental  calisthenics  he  gave  us  in  a  town  where  death 
by  opium  and  ropium  was  liable  to  occur,  and  where  five  men  with  their  Mexi- 
can spurs  on  climbed  one  telegraph  pole  in  one  night  and  sauntered  into  the 
remote  indefinitely.  Hopkins  told  me  that  he  had  tried  to  do  what  was  right, 
but  that  he  had  not  succeeded  very  well.     He  wrung  my  hand  and  said: 

"  I  have  tried  hard  to  make  the  >S<:'w/meZ  fill  a  long  want  felt,  but  I  have 
not  been  fortunate.  The  foreman  over  there  is  a  harsh  man.  He  used  to 
come  in  and  intimate  in  a  frowning  and  erect  tone  of  voice,  that  if  I  did  not 
produce  that  copy  p.  d.  q.,  or  some  other  abbreviation  or  other,  that  he  would 
bust  my  crust,  or  words  of  like  import. 

"Now  thafs  no  way  to  talk  to  a  man  of  a  nervous  temperament  who  is 
engaged  in  copying  a  list  of  hotel  arrivals,  and  shading  the  capitals  as  I  was. 
In  the  business  college  it  was  not  that  way.  Everything  was  quiet,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  jar  a  man  like  that. 

"  Of  course  I  would  like  to  stay  on  the  Sentinel  and  draw  the  princely  sal- 
ary, but  there  are  two  hundred  reasons  why  I  cannot  do  it.  So  far  as  the 
physical  effort  is  concerned,  I  could  draw  the  salary  with  one  hand  tied  behind 
me,  but  there  is  too  much  turmoil  and  mad  haste  in  daily  journalism  to  suit  me, 
and  another  thing,  the  proprietor  of  the  Seidinel  this  morning  stole  up  behind 
me  and  struck  me  over  the  head  with  a  wrought-iron  side  stick  weighing  ten 
pounds.  If  I  had  not  concealed  a  coil  spring  in  my  plug  hat,  the  blow  would 
have  been  deleterious  to  me. 

"  Then  he  threw  me  out  of  the  door  against  a  total  stranger,  and  flung 
pieces  of  coal  at  me  and  called  me  a  copper-plate  ass,  and  said  that  if  I  ever 
came  into  the  ofiice  again  he  would  assassinate  me. 

"That  is  the  principal  reason  why  I  have  severed  my  connection  with  the 
Sentinel^'' 

As  he  said  this,  Mr.  Hopkins  took  out  a  polka-dot  handkerchief,  wiped 
away  a  pearly  tear  the  size  of  a  walnut,  wrung  my  hand,  also  the  polka-dot 
wipe,  and  stole  out  into  the  great,  horrid  hence. 


1 


f\T)eedote$  of  Ju5tieG. 

^HE  justice  of  the  peace  is  sometimes  a  peculiarity,  and  if  someone 
does  not  watch  him  he  will  exceed  his  jurisdiction.  It  took  a  con- 
stable, a  sheriff,  a  prosecuting  attorney  and  a  club  to  convince  a  "VVy- 
^  oming  justice  of  the  peace  that  he  had  no  right  to  send  a  man  to  the 
penitentiary  for  life.  Another  justice  in  Utah  sentenced  a  criminal  to  be  hung 
on  the  following  Friday  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock  of  said  day,  but  he 
couldn't  enforce  the  sentence.  A  Wisconsin  justice  of  the  peace  granted  a 
divorce  and  in  two  weeks  married  the  couple  over  again — ten  dollars  for  the 
divorce  and  two  dollars  for  the  relapse.  Another  Badger  justice  bound  a 
young  man  over  to  appear  and  answer  at  the  next  term  of  the  Circuit  Court 
for  the  crime  of  chastity,  and  the  evidence  was  entirely  circumstantial,  too. 

Another  one,  when  his  first  case  came  up,  jerked  a  candle  box  around  be- 
hind the  dining-room  table,  put  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  borrowed  a 
chew  of  tobacco  from  the  prisoner  and  said:  "Now,  boys,  the  court's  open. 
The  first  feller  that  says  a  word  unless  I  speak  to  him  will  get  paralyzed. 
Now  tell  your  story."  Then  each  witness  and  the  defendant  reeled  off  his 
yarn  without  being  sworn.  The  justice  fined  the  defendant  ten  dollars  and 
made  the  complaining  witness  pay  half  the  costs.  The  justice  then  took  the 
fine  and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  adjourned  court,  and  in  an  hour  was  so  full  that 
it  took  six  men  to  hold  his  house  still  long  enough  for  him  to  get  into  the 
doors. 

A  North  Park  justice  of  the  peace  and  under-sheriff  formed  a  partnership 
years  ago  for  the  purpose  of  supplying  people  with  justice  at  New  York  prices, 
and  by  doing  a  strictly  cash  business  they  dispensed  with  a  good  deal  of  jus- 
tice, such  as  it  was. 

It  was  a  misdemeanor  to  kill  game  and  ship  it  out  of  the  State,  and  as  there 
was  a  good  deal  killed  there,  consisting  of  elk,  antelope  and  black  tail  deer  es- 
pecially, and  as  it  could  not  be  hauled  out  of  the  Park  at  that  season  without 

(363) 


364  REMABKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

going  across  the  Wyoming  line  and  back  again  into  tlie  State  of  Colorado,  the 
iinder-slieriff  would  load  himself  down  with  warrants,  signed  in  blank,  and  sta- 
tion himself  on  horseback  at  the  foot  of  the  pass  to  the  North.  He  would 
then  arrest  everybody  indiscriminately  who  had  any  fraction  of  a  deer,  ante- 
lope or  elk  on  his  wagon,  try  the  case  then  and  there,  put  on  a  fine  of  S25  to 
375,  which  if  paid  never  reached  the  treasury,  and  then  he  would  wait  for 
another  victim.  The  average  man  would  rather  pay  the  fine  than  go  back  a 
hundred  miles  through  the  mountains  to  stand  trial,  so  the  under-sheriff  and 
justice  thrived  for  some  time.  But  one  day  the  under-sheriff  served  liis  patent 
automatic  w^arrant  on  a  young  man  who  refused  to  come  down.  The  officer 
then  drew  one  of  those  large  baritone  instruments  that  generally  has  a  coward 
at  one  end  and  a  corpse  at  the  other.  He  pointed  this  at  the  }'oung  man  and 
assessed  a  fine  of  $50  and  costs.  Instead  of  paying  this  fine,  the  youth,  wdio 
was  quite  nimble,  but  unarmed,  knocked  the  bogus  officer  down  with  the  butt 
end  of  his  six-mule  whip,  took  his  self-cocking  credentials  away  and  lit  out. 
In  less  than  a  w^eek  the  justice  and  his  copper  were  in  the  refrigerator. 

I  was  once  a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  a  good  many  funny  little  incidents 
occurred  while  I  held  that  office.  I  do  not  allude  to  my  official  life  here  in 
order  to  call  attention  to  my  glowing  career,  for  thousands  of  others,  no  doubt, 
could  have  administered  the  affairs  of  the  office  as  well  as  I  did,  but  rather  to 
speak  of  one  incident  which  took  place  while  I  was  a  J.  P. 

One  night  after  I  had  retired  and  gone  to  sleep  a  milkman,  called  Bill  Dun- 
ninor,  rang  the  bell  and  ajot  me  out  of  bed.  Then  he  told  me  that  a  man  who 
owed  him  a  milk  bill  of  $35  was  all  loaded  up  and  prepared  to  slip  across  the 
line  overland  into  Colorado,  there  to  grow  up  with  the  country  and  acquire 
other  indebtedness,  no  doubt.  Bill  desired  an  attachment  for  the  entire  wagon- 
load  of  goods  and  said  he  had  an  officer  at  hand  to  serve  the  writ. 

"But,"  said  I,  as  I  wrapped  a  "welcome"  husk  door  mat  around  my  glori- 
ous proportions,  "how  do  you  know  while  we  converse  together  he  is  not  wing- 
ing his  way  down  the  valley  of  the  Paudre?" 

"Never  mind  that,  jedge,"  says  William,  "You  just  fix  the  dockyments 
and  I'll  tend  to  the  defendant." 

In  an  hour  Bill  returned  with  $35  in  cash  for  himself  and  the  entire  costs 
of  the  court,  and  as  we  settled  up  and  fixed  the  docket  I  asked  Bill  Dunning 
how  he  detained  the  defendant  while  we  made  out  the  affidavit  bond  and 
writ  of  attachment. 


ANECDOTES   OF   JUSTICE.  365 

"You  reckollect,  jeclge,"  says  William,  "that  the  waggin  wheel  is  held 
onto  the  exle  with  a  big  nut.  No  waggin  kin  go  any  length  of  time  without 
that  there  nut  onto  the  exle.  Well,  when  I  diskivered  that  what's-his-name 
was  packed  up  and  the  waggin  loaded,  I  took  the  liberty  to  borrow  one  o' 
them  there  nuts  fur  a  kind  of  momento,  as  it  were,  and  I  kept  that  in  my 
pocket  till  we  served  the  writ  and  he  paid  my  bill  and  came  to  his  milk,  if 
you'll  allow  me  that  expression,  and  then  I  says  to  him,  '  Pardner,'  says  I, 
'you  are  going  far,  far  away  where  I  may  never  see  you  again.  Take  this 
here  nut,'  says  I,  'and  put  it  onto  the  exle  of  the  oft  hind  wheel  of  your  wag- 
gin, and  whenever  you  look  at  it  hereafter,  think  of  poor  old  Bill  Dunning,  the 
milkman.'" 


Jf^e  <^\)\T)e^e  Qod. 


PRESUME  that  I  shall  not  be  accused  of  sacrilege  in  referring  to  the 
Chinese  god  as  an  inferior  piece  of  art.  Viewed  simply  from  an  artistic 
and  economical  standpoint,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  Chimaman  should  have 
less  pride  in  his  bow-legged  and  inefficient  god  than  in  any  other  national 
institution, 

I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  interfering  with  any  man's  religious  views ; 
but  when  polygamy  is  made  a  divine  decree,  or  a  bass-wood  deity  is  whittled 
out  and  painted  red,  to  look  up  to  and  to  worship,  I  cannot  treat  that  so-called 
religious  belief  with  courtesy  and  reverence,  I  am  quite  liberal  in  all  relig- 
ious matters.  People  have  noticed  that  and  remarked  it,  but  the  Oriental  god 
of  commerce  seems  to  me  to  be  greatly  over-rated.  He  seems  to  lack  that 
genuine  decision  of  character  which  should  be  a  feature  of  an  over-ruling 
power. 

I  ask  the  phrenologist  to  come  with  me  and  examine  the  head  of  the  al- 
leged Josh,  and  to  state  whether  or  not  he  believes  that  the  properly  balanced 
head  of  a  successful  god  should  not  have  a  more  protuberant  knob  of  spirit- 
uality, and  a  less  pronounced  alimentiveness.  Should  the  bump  of  combative- 
ness  hang  out  over  the  ear,  while  time,  tune  and  calculation  are  noticeably 
reticent?     I  certainly  wot  not. 

Again,  how  can  the  physiognomy  of  the  Celestial  Josh  be  consistent  with 
a  moral  and  temperate  god?  The  low  brow  would  not  indicate  a  pronounced 
omniscience,  and  the  Jumbo  ears  and  the  copious  neck  would  not  impress  me 
with  the  idea  of  purity  and  spirituality. 

It  is,  no  doubt,  wrong  to  attack  sacred  matters  for  the  purpose  of  gaining 
notoriety;  but  I  believe  I  am  right,  when  I  assert  that  the  Chinese  god  must 
go.  We  should  not  be  Puritanical,  but  we  might  safely  draw  the  line  at  the 
bow-legged  and  sedentary  goddess  of  leprosy. 

If  Confucius  bowed  the  suppliant  knee  to  that  goggle-eyed  jim-jam  Josh, 
I  am  grieved  to  know  it.  If  such  was  the  case,  the  friends  of  Confucius 
should  keep  the  matter  from  me.     I  cannot  believe  that  the  great  philosopher 

(366) 


THE    CHINESE    GOD. 


367 


wallowed  in  the  dust  at  the  feet  of  such  a  polka-dot  carricature  of  a  gorilla's 
horrid  dream. 

I  bought  a  Chinese  god  once,  for  four  bits.  He  was  not  successful  in  the 
profession  which  he  aimed  to  follow.  Whatever  he  may  have  been  in  China, 
he  was  not  a  very  successful  god  in  the  English  language.     I  put  him  upon 


^Mmmm:^ 


THE   DOG   EXITS. 


the  mantel,  and  the  clock  stopped,  the  servant  girl  sent  in  her  resignation,  and 
a  large  dog  jumped  through  the  parlor -window.  All  this  happened  within  two 
hours  from  the  time  I  erected  the  lop-eared,  knocked-kneed  and  club-footed 
Oolong  in  my  household. 

Perhaps  this  may  have  been  largely   due   to   my   ignorance   of  his  habits. 
Possibly  if  I  had  been  more  familiar  with  his  eccentricities,   it  would  have 


368  REMAliKS    BY    ]5ILL    NYE. 

been  all  ri<^lit ;  hut  as  it  was,  there  -was  no  book  of  instructions  given  with 
him,  and  I  couldn't  seem  to  make  him  work. 

During  the  week  following,  the  prospect  shaft  of  the  Now  Jerusalem  mine 
struck  a  subterranean  gulf-stream  and  water-logged  the  stock,  a  tall  yellow 
do<'',  under  the  weight  of  a  great  woe,  picked  out  my  cistern  to  suicide  in,  and 
I  skated  down  the  cellar-stairs  on  my  my  shoulder-blades  and  the  phrenologi- 
cal location  known  as  Love  of  Home,  in  such  a  terrible  manner  as  to 
jar  the  foundations  of  the  earth,  and  kick  a  large  hole  out  of  the  bosom  of 
the  night. 

I  then  met  with  a  change  of  heart,  and  overthrew  the  warty  heathen  god, 
and  knocked  him  galley  west.  My  hens  at  once  began  to  watch  the  produce 
market,  and,  noticing  the  high  price  of  eggs,  commenced  to  orate  with  great 
zeal  instead  of  standing  around  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets.  I  saw  the 
new  moon  over  my  right  shoulder,  and  all  nature  seemed  gay  once  more. 

The  above  are  a  few  of  my  reasons  for  believing  that  the  Chinese  god  is 
either  greatly  over-estimated,  or  else  shippers  and  producers  are  flooding  the 
market  with  fraudulent  gods. 


P  dreat  5piritiiali5t. 


Mr  HAVE  an  uncle  who  is  a  physician,  and  a  very  busy  one  at  that.     He  is 
- '       a  very  active  man,  and  allows  himself  very  little  relaxation  indeed.      How 


II 


Ovj^i 


many  times  he  has  said  to  me,  "Well,  I  can't  stand  here  and  fool  away  my 
^^    time  with  you.      I've  got  a  typhoid  fever  patient  down  in  the  lower  end  of 
town  who  will  get  well  if  I  don't  get  over  there  this  forenoon." 

He  never  allows  himself  any  relaxation  to  speak  of,  except  to  demonstrate 
the  truth  of  spiritualism.  He  does  love  to  monkey  with  the  supernatural,  and 
he  delights  in  getting  hold  of  some  skeptical  friend  and  convincing  him  of  the 
presence  of  spirits  beyond  a  doubt.  I've  known  him  to  ignore  two  cases  of 
croup  and  one  case  of  twins  to  attend  a  seance  and  help  convince  a  doubting 
Thomas  on  the  spirit  question. 

I  believe  that  he  and  I,  together  with  a  little  time  in  which  to  prepare, 
could  convince  the  most  skeptical.  He  says  that  with  a  friend  to  assist  him, 
who  is  en  rajyjyort,  and  who  has  a  little  practice,  he  can  reach  the  stoniest 
heart.  He  is  a  very  susceptible  medium  indeed,  and  created  a  great  furore  in 
his  own  town.  He  said  it  was  a  great  comfort  to  him  to  converse  with  his 
former  patients,  and  he  felt  kind  of  attached  to  them,  so  that  he  hated  to  be 
separated  from  them,  even  in  death. 

Spiritualism  had  quite  a  run  in  his  neighborhood  at  one  time,  as  I  have 
said.  Even  his  own  family  yielded  to  the  convincing  proof  and  the  astound- 
ing phenomena.  If  his  wife  hadn't  found  some  of  his  spiritual  tracks  down 
cellar,  she  would  have  remained  firm,  no  doubt,  but  the  doctor  forgot  and  left 
his  step-ladder  down  there,  and  that  showed  where  the  hole  in  the  floor  opened 
into  his  mysterious  cabinet. 

He  said  if  he  had  been  a  little  more  careful,  no  doubt  he  could  have 
convinced  anybody  of  the  presence  of  spirits  or  anything  else.  He  said  he 
didn't  intend  to  give  up  as  long  as  there  was  anything  left  in  the  cellar. 

He  had  such  unwavering  confidence  in  the  phenomena  that  all  he  asked  of 
anybody  was  faith  and  a  buckskin  string  about  two  feet  long. 


870  BEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

He  and  his  brother,  a  reformed  member  of  Congress,  read  the  inmost 
thoughts  of  a  skeptical  friend  all  one  evening  by  the  aid  of  supernatural  pow- 
ers and  a  tin  tube.  The  reformed  member  of  Congress  acted  as  medium,  and 
the  doctor,  who  was  unfortunately  and  ostensibly  called  away  into  the  country 
early  in  the  evening,  remained  at  the  window  outside,  where  he  could  read  the 
queries  written  by  the  victim  on  a  slip  of  paper.  Then  he  would  run  around 
the  house  and  murmur  the  same  through  a  tin  tube  at  another  window  by  the 
medium's  ear. 

It  Avas  astounding.     The  skeptical  man  would  w^ite  some  deep  question  on 

a  slip  of  paper,  and  after  the  medium  had  felt  of  his  brow,  and  groaned  a  few 

hollow  groans,  and  rolled  his  eyes  up,  he  would  answer  it  without  having  been 

■  Avithin  twenty  feet  of  the  question  or  the  questioner.      The  victim  said  he  Avould 

never  doubt  again. 

"What  a  comfort  it  was  to  know  that  immortality  was  an  established  fact. 
If  he  could  have  heard  a  man  talking  in  a  low  tone  of  voice  through  an  old 
tin  dipper  handle,  at  the  south  window  on  the  ground  floor,  and  occasionally 
swearing  at  a  mosquito  on  the  back  of  his  neck,  he  would  have  hesitated. 

An  old-timer  over  there  said  that  Woodworth  would  be  a  mighty  good  phy- 
sician if  he  would  let  spiritualism  alone.  He  claimed  that  no  man  could  be  a 
great  physician  and  surgeon  and  still  be  a  fanatic  on  spiritualism. 


(i(?9<?ral  5l7(^rida9'5  }iors<?. 

HAVE  always  taken  a  great  interest  in  war  incidents,  and  more  so,  per- 
haps, because  I  wasn't  old  enough  to  put  down  the  rebellion  myself.  I 
have  been  very  eager  to  get  hold  of  and  hoard  up  in  my  memory  all  its  fal- 
^'^^  lant  deeds  of  both  sides,  and  to  know  the  history  of  those  who  fio-ured 
prominently  in  that  great  conflict  has  been  one  of  my  ambitions. 

I  have  also  watched  with  interest  the  steady  advancement  of  Phil  Sheridan, 
the  black-eyed  warrior  with  the  florid  face  and  the  Winchester  record.  I  have 
also  taken  some  pains  to  investigate  the  later  history  of  the  old  Winchester 
war  horse. 

"  Old  Rienzi  died  in  our  stable  a  few  years  after  the  war,""  said  a  Chicao-o 
livery  man  to  me,  a  short  time  ago.  "General  Sheridan  left  him  with  us  and 
instructed  us  to  take  good  care  of  him,  which  we  did,  but  he  got  old  at  last,  and 
his  teeth  failed  upon  him,  and  that  busted  his  digestion,  and  he  kind  of  died  of 
old  age,  I  reckon." 

"How  did  General  Sheridan  take  it?" 

"Oh,  well,  Phil  Sheridan  is  no  school  girl.  He  didn't  turn  away  when  old 
Rienzi  died  and  weep  the  manger  full  of  scalding  regret.  If  you  know  Sheri- 
dan, yoil  know  that  he  don't  rip  the  blue  dome  of  heaven  wide  open  with  un- 
availing wails.  He  just  told  us  to  take  care  of  its  remains,  patted  the  old  cuss 
on  the  head  a  little  and  walked  off'.  Phil  Sheridan  don't  go  around  weepiug 
softly  into  a  pink  bordered  wipe  when  a  horse  dies.  He  likes  a  good  horse, 
but  Rienzi  was  no  Jay-Eye-See  for  swiftness,  and  he  wasn't  the  purtiest  horse 
you  ever  see,  by  no  means." 

"Did  you  read  lately  how  General  Sheridan  don't  ride  on  horseback  since 
his  old  war  horse  died,  and  seems  to  have  lost  all  interest  in  horses?" 

"No,  I  never  did.  He  no  doubt  would  rather  ride  in  a  cable  car  or  a  car- 
riage than  to  jar  himself  up  on  a  horse.  That's  all  likely  enough,  but,  as  I 
say,  he's  a  matter  of  fact  little  fighter  from  Fighttown.  He  never  stopped  to 
snoot  and  paw  up  the  ground  and  sob  himself  into  bronchitis  over  old  Rienzi. 

(371) 


372  EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

He  went  riglit  on  about  his  business,  and,  like  old  King  Wliat's-bis-name  he 
hollered  for  another  lioss,  and  the  War  Department  never  slipped  a  cog." 

Later  on  I  read  that  the  old  war  horse  was  called  Winchester  and  that  he 
was  still  alive  in  a  blue  grass  pasture  in  Kentucky.  The  report  said  that  old 
Winchester  wasn't  very  coltish,  and  that  he  was  evidently  failing.  I  gathered 
the  idea  that  he  was  wearing  store  teeth,  and  tliat  his  memory  was  a  little  deficient, 
but  that  he  might  live  yet  for  years.  After  that  I  met  a  New  York  livery  stable 
prince,  at  whose  palace  General  Sheridan's  well-known  Winchester  war  horse 
died  of  botts  in  '71.  He  told  me  all  about,  it  and  how  General  Sheridan  came 
on  from  Chicago  at  the  time,  and  held  the  horse's  head  in  his  lap  while  the 
fleet  limbs  that  flew  from  Winchester  down  and  saved  the  day,  stiffened  in  the 
great,  mysterious  repose  of  death.  He  said  Sheridan  wept  like  a  child,  and  as 
he  told  the  touching  tale  to  me  I  wept  also.  I  say  I  wept.  I  wept  about  a 
quart,  I  would  say.  He  said  also  that  the  horse's  name  wasn't  Winchester  nor 
Bienzi ;  it  was  Jim. 

I  was  sorry  to  know  it.  Jim  is  no  name  for  a  war  horse  who  won  a  victory 
and  a  marble  bust  and  a  poem.  You  can't  respect  a  horse  much  if  his  name 
was  Jim. 

After  that  I  found  out  that  General  Sheridan's  celebrated  Winchester 
horse  was  raised  in  Kentucky,  also  in  Pennsylvania  and  Michigan ;  that  he 
went  out  as  a  volunteer  private ;  that  he  was  in  the  regular  service  prior  to  the 
war,  and  that  he  was  drafted,  and  that  he  died  on  the  field  of  battle,  in  a  sor- 
rel pasture,  in  '73,  in  great  pain  on  Governor's  Island;  that  he  was  buried 
with  Masonic  honors  by  the  Good  Templars  and  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Ke- 
public ;  that  he  was  resurrected  by  a  medical  college  and  dissected ;  that  he 
was  cremated  in  New  Orleans  and  taxidermed  for  the  Military  Museum  at  New 
York.  Every  little  while  I  run  up  against  a  new  fact  relative  to  this  noted 
beast.  He  has  died  in  nine  different  States,  and  been  buried  in  thirteen  dif- 
ferent styles,  while  his  soul  goes  marching  on.  Evidently  we  live  in  an  age  of 
information.  You  can  get  more  information  nowadays,  such  as  it  is,  than  you 
know  what  to  do  with. 


[\  Qir(;ular. 


^JO  MY  FEIENDS,  EEGAKDLESS  OF  PARTY.— Many  friends  hav- 
ing solicited  me  to  apply  for   a  foreign   mission   under  the  present 
administration,  I  have  finally  consented  to  do  so,  and  last  week  filed 
*^       my  application  for  such  missions  as  might  still  remain  vacant. 
To  insure  my  appointment,  much  will  remain  for  you  to  do.     I  now  call 

upon  my  friends  to  aid  me  by  their  united  effort.     I  especially  solicit  the  aid 

of  my  friends  who  have  repeatedly  heretofore  promised  it  to  me  while  drunk. 
You  will  see  at  a  glance  that 

I  can  only  make  the  application. 

You  must  support  it  by   your 

petitions  and  letters.     It  would 

be  of  little  use  for  one  man  to 

write  five  thousand  letters  to  the 

president,  but  if  five  thousand 

people  each  write  him  a  letter  in 

which  casual  reference  is  made 

to  my  social  worth  and  7^  octave 

brain,  it  will  make  him  pay  at- 
tention. 

My  idea  would  be  for  each 

of  my  friends  to  set  aside  one 

day  in  each  week  to  write  to  the 

president,  opening  it  in  a  chatty 

way  by  asking  him  if  he  does 

not  think  we  are  having  rather 

a  backward  spring,  and  what  he 

is  doing  for  his  cut  worms  now, 

and  how  his  folks  are,  etc.,  etc. 

m  1      n      1       1  i.     XI  PLENTY   OF   CORRESPONDENCE. 

Then  gradually  lead  up  to  the 

statement  that  you  think  I  would  be  an  ornament  to  the  administration  if  I 

should  go  abroad  and  linger  on  a  foreign  strand  at  $2,000  per  linger  and 

stationery. 

(373) 


374 


REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 


Tliis  will  keep  the  president  properly  stirred  up,  and  cause  liim  to  earn  his 
salary.  The  effect  will  be  to  secure  the  appointment  at  last,  as  you  will  see  if 
you  persevere. 

I  need  not  add  that  I  will  do  what  is  right  by  my  friends  upon  receiving  my 
commission. 

Do  not  neglect  this  suggestion  because  it  comes  to  you  in  the  form  of  a 
circular,  but  remember  it  and  act  upon  it.  Remember  that,  although  the  presi- 
dent is  stubborn  as  Sam  Hill,  he  will  at  last  yield  to  fatigue,  and  when  tired 

nature  can  hold  out  no  longer,  the 
last  letter  will  drop  from  his  nerve- 
less hand  and  he  will  surrender. 

Some  of  you  will  urge  that  I 
have  been  an  offensive  partisan, 
but  when  you  come  to  think  it  over 
I  have  not  been  so  all -fired  parti- 
san. There  have  been  days  and 
days  when  it  did  not  show  itself 
very  much.  However,  that  is  not 
the  point.  I  want  your  hearty  in- 
dorsement and  I  want  it  to  be  en- 
tirely voluntary,  and  if  you  do  not 
give  it,  and  give  it  freely  and  vol- 
untarily, you  hadn't  better  ask  me 
for  any  more  favors. 

All  the  newspapers  most  heart- 
ily indorse  me.  The  Rocky  Moun- 
tain Whoop  very  truthfully  says: 
"Mr.  Nye  called  at  our  office 
yesterday  and  subscribed  for  our 
paper.  We  are  proud  to  add  him 
to  our  list  of  paid-up  subscribers, 
and  should  he  renew  his  subscription  next  year,  paying  in  advance,  we  will 
cheerfully  refer  to  it  among  other  startling  news." 

I  have  a  scrap-book  full  of  such  indorsements  as  this,  and  now,  if  my 
friends  will  peel  their  coats  and  write  as  they  should,  I  can  make  this  admin- 
istration open  its  eyes. 


NURSING    THE    FIERY    STEED. 


A   CIRCULAR.  875 

Several  papers  in  Iowa  have  alluded  to  my  being  in  town,  and  referred  to 
the  fact  that  I  had  paid  my  bills  while  there.  But  press  indorsements  alone 
are  not  sufficient.  What  is  needed  is  the  written  testimony  of  friends  and 
neighbors.  No  matter  how  poor  or  humble  or  worthless  you  may  be,  write  to 
Mr.  Cleveland  and  tell  him  how  much  confidence  you  have  in  me,  and  if  you 
can  call  to  mind  any  little  acts  of  kindness,  or  any  times  when  I  have  got  up 
in  the  night  to  give  you  a  dollar,  or  nurse  a  colicky  horse  for  you,  throw  that 
in.     Throw  it  in  anyhow.     It  will  do  no  harm,  and  may  do  much  good. 

I  can  solemnly  promise  all  my  friends  that  if  they  will  secure  my  appoint- 
ment to  a  foreign  country  for  four  years,  I  will  not  return  during  that  time. 
What  more  can  I  offer?  I  will  stay  longer  if  I  am  reappointed.  I  would  do 
anything  for  my  friends. 

Do  not  throw  this  circular  carelessly  aside.  Read  it  carefully  over  and  act 
upon  it.  "  Some  of  you  are  poor  spellers,  and  will  try  to  get  out  of  it  in  that 
way.  Others  are  in  the  penitentiary  and  cannot  spare  the  time.  But  to  one 
and  all  I  say,  write,  and  write  regularly,  to  the  president.  Do  not  wait  for  a 
reply  from  him,  because  he  is  pretty  busy  now ;  but  he  will  be  tickled  to  death 
to  hear  from  you,  and  anything  you  say  about  me  will  give  him  great  pleasure. 

N.  B. — Please  be  careful  not  to  inclose  this  circular  in  your  letter  to  the 
president 


J\)<1  pt?otO(^rapf7  J^abit 

|^\0  doubt  the  photograph   habit,  when  once  formed,  is  one  of  the  most 

^ij-i/ [(l|    baneful,  and  productive  of  tlie  most  intense  suffering  in  after  years,  of 

J  Iiw/l    any  witJi  which  we  are  familiar.     Some  times  it  seems  to  me  that  my 

^J^    whole  life  has  been  one  long,  abject  apology  for  photographs  that  I  have 

shed  abroad  throughout  a  distracted  country. 

Man  passes  through  seven  distinct  stages  of  being  photographed,  each  one 
exceeding  all  previous  efforts  in  that  line. 

First  he  is  photographed  as  a  prattling,  bald-headed  baby,  absolutely  des- 
titute of  eyes,  but  making  up  for  this  deficiency  by  a  wealth  of  mouth  that 
would  make  a  negro  minstrel  olive  green  with  envy.  We  often  wonder  what 
has  given  the  average  photographer  that  wild,  hunted  look  about  the  eyes  and 
that  joyless  sag  about  the  knees.  The  chemicals  and  the  indoor  life  alone 
have  not  done  all  this.  It  is  the  great  nerve  tension  and  mental  strain  used 
in  trying  to  photograph  a  squirming  and  dark  red  child  with  white  eyes,  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  please  its  parents. 

An  old-fashioned  dollar  store  album  with  cerebro-spinal  meningitis,  and 
filled  with  pictures  of  half-suffocated  children  in  heavily-starched  white  dresses, 
is  the  first  thing  we  seek  on  entering  a  home,  and  the  last  thing  from  which 
we  reluctantly  part. 

The  second  stage  on  the  downward  road  is  the  photograph  of  the  boy  with 
fresh-cropped  hair,  and  in  which  the  stiff  and  protuberant  thumb  takes  a  lead- 
ing part. 

Then  follows  the  portrait  of  the  lad,  with  strongly  marked  freckles  and  a 
look  of  hopeless  melancholy.  "With  the  aid  of  a  detective  agency,  I  have  suc- 
ceeded in  running  down  and  destroying  several  of  these  pictures  which  were 
attributed  to  me. 

Next  comes  the  young  man,  21  years  of  age,  with  his  front  hair  plastered 
smoothly  doAvn  over  his  tender,  throbbing  dome  of  thought.     He  does  not  care 

(376) 


THE    PHOTOGEAPH    HABIT.  377 

SO  much  about  the  expression  on  the  mobile  features,  so  long  as  his  left  hand, 
with  the  new  ring  on  it,  shows  distinctly,  and  the  string  of  jingling,  jangling 
charms  on  his  watch  chain,  including  the  cute  little  basket  cut  out  of  a  peach 
stone,  stand  out  well  in  the  foreground.  If  the  young  man  would  stoj)  to  think 
for  a  moment  that  some  day  he  may  become  eminent  and  ashamed  of  himself, 
he  would  hesitate  about  doing  this. 

Soon  after,  he  has  a  tintype  taken  in  which  a  young  lady  sits  in  the  al- 
leged grass,  while  he  stands  behind  her  with  his  hand  lightly  touching  her 
shoulder  as  though  he  might  be  feeling  of  the  thrilling  circumference  of  a  buzz 
sav/.  He  carries  this  picture  in  his  pocket  for  months,  and  looks  at  it  when- 
ever he  may  be  unobserved. 

Then,  all  at  once,  he  discovers  that  the  young  lady's  hair  is  not  done  up 
that  way  any  more,  and  that  her  hat  doesn't  seem  to  fit  her.  He  then,  in 
a  fickle  moment,  has  another  tintype  made,  in  which  another  young  woman, 
with  a  more  recent  hat  and  later  coiffure,  is  discovered  holding  his  hat  in 
her  lap. 

This  thing  continues,  till  one  day  he  comes  into  the  studio  with  his  wife, 
and  tries  to  see  how  many  children  can  be  photographed  on  one  negative  by 
holding  one  on  each  knee  and  using  the  older  ones  as  a  back-ground. 

The  last  stage  in  his  eventful  career,  the  old  gentleman  allows  himself  to 
be  photographed,  because  he  is  afraid  he  may  not  live  through  another  long, 
hard  winter,  and  the  boys  would  like  a  picture  of  him  while  he  is  able  to 
climb  the  dark,  narrow  stairs  which  lead  to  the  artist's  room. 

Sadly  the  thought  comes  back  to  you  in  after  years,  when  his  grave  is 
green  in  the  quiet  valley,  and  the  worn  and  weary  hands  that  have  toiled  for 
you  are  forever  at  rest,  how  patiently  he  submitted  while  his  daughter  pinned 
the  clean,  stiff,  agonizing  white  collar  about  liis  neck,  and  brushed  the  velvet 
collar  of  his  best  coat;  how  he  toiled  up  the  long,  dark,  lonesome  stairs,  not 
with  the  egotism  of  a  half  century  ago,  but  with  the  light  of  anticipated  rest 
at  last  in  his  eyes — obediently,  as  he  would  have  gone  to  the  dingy  law  office 
to  have  his  will  drawn — and  meekly  left  the  outlines  of  his  kind  old  face  for 
those  he  loved  and  for  whom  he  had  so  long  labored. 

It  is  a  picture  at  which  the  thoughtless  may  smile,  but  it  is  full  of  pathos, 
and  eloquent  for  those  who  knew  him  best.  His  attitude  is  stiff  and  his  coat 
hunches  up  in  the  back,  but  his  kind  old  heart  asserts  itself  through  the 
gentle  eyes,  and  when  he  has  gone  away  at  last  we  do  not  criticise  the  picture 


378  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

any  more,  but  beyond  the  old  coat  that  hnnches  up  in  the  back,  and  that  lasted 
him  so  long,  we  read  the  history  of  a  iu)ble  life. 

Silently  the  old  finger-marked  album,  lying  so  unostentatiously  on  the 
gouty  centre  table,  points  out  the  mile-stones  from  infancy  to  age,  and  back  of 
the  mistakes  of  a  struggling  photographer  is  portrayed  the  laughter  and  the 
tears,  the  joy  and  the  grief,  the  dimples  and  the  gray  hairs  of  one  man's  life- 
time. 


I^05ali9d(?. 


N  answer  to  a  former  article  relative  to  the  dearth  of  woman  here,  we  are 
now  receiving  two  to  five  letters  per  day  from  all  classes  and  styles  of 
|||[  young,  middle-aged  and  old  women  who  desire  to  come  to  Wyoming^ 
"^  Some  of  them  would  like  to  come  here  to  work  and  obtain  an  honest  live- 
lihood, and  some  of  them  desire  to  come  here  and  marry  cattle  kings. 

A  recent  letter  from  Michigan,  written  in  lead  pencil,  and  evidently  during 
hours  when  the  writer  should  have  been  learning  her  geography  lesson,  is  very 
enthusiastic  over  the  prospect  of  coming  out  here  where  one  girl  can  have  a 
lover  for  every  day  in  the  week.  She  signs  herself  Rosalinde,  with  a  small  r, 
and  adds  in  a  postscript  that  she  "means  business." 

Yes,  Rosalinde,  that's  what  we  are  afraid  of.  We  had  a  kind  of  a  vague  fear 
that  you  meant  business,  so  we  did  not  reply  to  your  letter.  Wyoming  already 
has  women  enough  who  write  with  a  lead  pencil.  We  are  also  pretty  well  pro- 
vided with  poor  spellers,  and  we  do  not  desire  to  ransack  Michigan  for  affec- 
tionate but  sap-headed  girls. 

Stay  in  Michigan,  E-osalinde,  until  we  write  to  you,  and  one  of  these  days 
when  you  have  been  a  mother  eight  or  nine  times,  and  as  you  stand  in  the  gold- 
en haze  in  the  back  yard,  hanging  out  damp  shirts  on  an  uncertain  line,  while 
your  ripe  and  dewy  mouth  is  stretched  around  a  bass-wood  clothes  pin,  you 
will  thank  us  for  this  advice. 

Michigan  is  the  place  for  you.  It  is  the  home  of  the  Sweet  Singer  and  the 
abiding  place  of  the  Detroit  Free  Press.  We  can't  throw  any  such  influ- 
ences around  you  here  as  those  you  have  at  your  own  door. 

Do  not  despair,  Rosalinde.  Some  day  a  man,  with  a  great,  warm,  manly 
heart  and  a  pair  of  red  steers,  will  see  you  and  love  you,  and  he  will  take  you 
in  his  strong  arms  and  protect  you  from  the  Michigan  climate,  just  as  devot- 
edly as  any  of  our  peoj^le  here  can.  We  do  not  wish  to  be  misunderstood  in 
this  matter.  It  is  not  as  a  lover  that  we  have  said  so  much  on  the  girl  ques- 
tion, but  in  the  domestic  aid  department,  and  when  we  get  a  long  letter  from 
a  young  girl  who  eats  slate  pencils  and  reads  Ouida  behind  her  atlas,  we  feel  like 
going  over  there  to  Michigan  with  a  trunk  strap  and  doing  a  little  missionary  work. 

(379) 


E\}e  <^l)urQ\)  D<?bt. 


HAVE  been  thinking  the  matter  over  seriously  and  I  have  decided  that 
if  I  had  my  life  to  live  over  again,  I  would  like  to  be  an  eccentric  mil- 
lionaire. 

I  have  eccentricity  enough,  but  I  cannot  successfully  push  it  without 
more  means. 

I  have  a  great  many  plans  which  I  would  like  to  carry  out,  in  case  I  could 
unite  the  two  necessary  elements  for  the  production  of  the  successful  eccentric 
millionaire. 

Among  other  things,  I  would  be  willing  to  bind  myself  and  give  proper 
security  to  any  one  who  would  put  in  money  to  offset  my  eccentricity,  that  I 
would  ultimately  die.  We  all  know  how  seldom  the  eccentric  millionaire  now 
dies.     I  would  be  wdlling  to  inaugurate  a  reform  in  that  direction. 

I  think  now  that  I  would  endow  a  home  for  men  whose  wives  are  no  longer 
able  to  support  them.  In  many  cases  the  wife  who  was  at  first  able  to  support 
her  husband  comfortably,  finally  shoulders  a  church  debt,  and  in  trying  to  lift 
that  she  overworks  and  impairs  her  health  so  that  she  becomes  an  invalid, 
while  her  husband  is  left  to  pine  away  in  solitude  or  dependent  on  the  cold 
charities  of  the  world. 

My  heart  goes  out  toward  those  men  even  now,  and  in  case  I  should 
fill  the  grave  of  the  eccentric  millionaire,  I  am  sure  that  I  would  do  the  square 
thing  by  them. 

The  method  by  which  our  wives  in  America  are  knocking  the  church  debt 
silly,  by  working  up  their  husbands'  groceries  into  "angel  food  "  and  selling 
them  below  actual  cost,  is  deserving  of  the  attention  of  our  national  financiers. 

The  church  debt  itself  is  deserving  of  notice  in  this  country.  It  certainly 
thrives  better  under  a  republican  form  of  government  than  any  other  feature 
of  our  boasted  civilization.  Western  towns  spring  up  everywhere,  and  the  first 
anxiety  is  to  name  the  place,  the  second  to  incur  a  church  debt  and  establish  a 
roller  rink. 

(380) 


THE    CHURCH    DEBT. 


381 


After  that  a  general  activity  in  trade  is  assured.  Of  course  the  general 
hostility  of  church  and  rink  will  prevent  ennui  and  listlessness,  and  the  church 
debt  will  encourage  a  business  boom.  Naturally  the  church  debt  cannot  be 
paid  without  what  is  generally  known  through  the  West  as  the  "festival  and 
hooraw."  This  festival  is  an  open  market  where  the  ladies  trade  the  groceries 
of  their  husbands  to  other  ladies'  husbands,  and  everybody  has  a  "perfectly 
lovely  time."  The  church  clears  $2.30,  and  thirteen  ladies  are  sick  all  the 
next  day. 

This  makes  a  boom  for  the  physicians  and  later  on  for  the  undertaker  and 
general  tombist.  So  it  will  be  seen  that  the  Western  town  is  right  in  estab- 
lishing a  church  debt  as  soon  as  the  survey  is  made  and  the  town  properly 
named.  After  the  first  church 
debt  has  been  properly  start- 
ed, others  will  rapidly  follow, 
so  that  no  anxiety  need  be 
felt  if  the  church  will  come 
forward  the  first  year  and 
buy  more  than  it  can  pay  for. 

The  church  debt  is  a  com- 
paratively modern  appliance, 
and  yet  it  has  been  produc- 
tive of  many  peculiar  fea- 
tures. For  instance,  we  call 
to  mind  the  clergyman  who 
makes  a  specialty  of  going 
from  place  to  place  as  a  suc- 
cessful debt  demolisher.  He 
is  a  part  of  the  general  sys- 
tem, just  as  much  as  the  ice 
cream  freezer  or  the  button- 
hole boquet. 

Then  there  is  a  row  or  social  knock-down-and-drag-out  which  goes  along 
with  the  church  debt.  All  these  things  add  to  the  general  interest,  and  to 
acquire  interest  in  one  way  or  another  is  the  mission  of  the  c.  d. 

I  once  knew  a  most  exemplary  woman  who  became  greatly  interested  in 
the  wiping  out  of  a  church  debt,  and  who  did  finally  succeed  in  wiping  out  the 


PUGILISM  IN  KELIGION. 


382 


REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


debt,  but  in  its  last  expiring  death  struggle  it  gave  lier  a  wipe  from  wliicli  slie 
never  recovered.  She  had  succeeded  in  begging  the  milk  and  the  cream,  and 
the  eggs  and  the  sandwiches,  and  the  use  of  the  dishes  and  the  sugar,  and  the 
loan  of  an  oyster,  and  the  use  of  a  freezer  and  fifty  button-hole  boquets  to  be 
sold  to  men  who  were  not  in  the  habit  of  wearing  boquets,  but  she  could  not 
borrow  a  circular  artist  to  revolve  the  crank  of  the  freezer,  so  she  agitated  it 
herself.  Her  husband  had  to  go  away  prior  to  the  festivities,  but  he  ordered 
her  not  to  crank  the  freezer.  He  had  very  little  influence  with  her,  however, 
and  so  to-day  he  is  a  widower.  The  chui'ch  debt  was  revived  in  the  following 
year,  and  now  there  isn't  a  more  thriving  church  debt  anywhere  in  the  country. 
Only  last  week  that  church  traded  off  ^75  worth  of  groceries,  in  the  form  of 
asbestos  cake  and  celluloid  angel  food,  in  such  a  way  that  if  the  original  cost 
of  the  groceries  and  the  work  were  not  considered,  the  clear  profit  was  §13, 
after  the  hall  rent  was  paid.  And  why  should  the  first  cost  of  the  groceries  be 
reckoned,  when  we  stop  to  think  that  they  were  involuntarily  furnished  by  the 
depraved  husband  and  father. 

I  must  add,  also,  that   in  the  above  estimate  doctors'    bills  and  funeral 
expenses  are  not  reckoned. 


m 


f\  ^olleetior^  of  l^eys. 

'M  getting  to  be  quite  a  connoisseur  of  hotel  keys  as  I  get  older.  For  ten 
years  I  have  been  collecting  these  mementoes  of  travel  and  cording  them 
away  in  my  key  cabinet.  Some  have  square  brass  tags  attached  to  them, 
"'i'^  others  have  round  ones.  Still  others  affect  the  octagonal,  the  fluted,  the 
hexagonal,  the  scalloped,  the  plain,  the  polished,  the  docorated,  the  chaste,  the 
Etruscan,  the  metropolitan,  the  rural,  the  cosmopolitan,  the  shirred,  the  tucked, 
the  biased,  the  high  neck  and  long  sleeve  or  the  dccolcftc  style  of  brass  check. 

I  have,  so  far,  paid  my  bills,  but  I  have  not  returned  the  keys  to  my  room. 
Hotel  proprietors  will  please  take  notice  and  govern  themselves  accordingly. 
When  my  visit  to  a  pleasant  city  has  become  a  beautiful  memory  only,  I  all 
at  once  sit  down  on  something  hard  and  find  that  it  is  the  key  to  my  former 
room  at  the  hotel.  Sitting  down  on  a  key  tag  of  corrugated  brass,  as  big  as 
a  buckwheat  pancake,  would  remind  most  anyone  of  something  or  other. 

I  generally  leave  my  tooth-brush  in  my  room  and  carry  off  the  key  as  a 
kind  of  involuntary  swap,  so  far  as  the  hotel  proprietor  is  concerned,  but  I  do 
not  think  it  is  a  mutual  benefit,  particularly.  I  cannot  use  the  key  to  a  hotel 
500  miles  away,  and  so  far  as  a  tooth-brush  is  concerned,  it  generally  has 
pleasant  associations  only  for  the  owner.  A  man  is  fond  of  his  own  tooth- 
brush, but  it  takes  years  for  him  to  love  the  tooth-brush  of  a  stranger. 

There  are  a  good  many  associations  attached  to  these  keys,  like  the  tags 
They  point  backward  to  the  rooms  to  which  the  keys  belong.  Here  is  a  fat  one 
that  led  to  room  number  331  in  the  Synagogue  hotel.  It  was  a  cheerful  room, 
where  the  bell  boy  said  an  old  man  had  asphyxiated  himself  with  gas  the  previous 
week.  I  had  never  met  the  old  man  before,  but  that  night,  about  1  o'clock  A. 
M.,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  his  acquaintance.  He  came  in  a  sad  and  reproach- 
ful way,  and  showed  me  how  the  post-mortem  people  had  disfigured  him.  Of 
course  it  was  a  little  tough  to  be  mutilated  by  an  inquest,  but  that's  no  reason 
why  he  should  come  back  there  and  occupy  a  room  that  I  was  paying  for  so 
that  I  could  be  alone.     He  showed  me  how  he  blew  out  the  gas,  and  told  me 

(383) 


384  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

how  a  man  could  successfully  blow  down  the  muzzle  of  a  shot-gun  or  a  gas  jet, 
but  both  of  these  weapons  had  a  way  of  blowing  back. 

I  have  a  key  that  brings  back  to  me  the  memory  of  a  room  that  I  lived  in 
two  days  at  one  time.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  lived  the  two  days  at  once,  but 
that  at  one  period  I  occupied  that  room,  partially,  for  two  days  and  two  nights. 
I  say  I  partially  occupied  it,  because  I  used  to  occupy  it  days  and  share 
it  nights  with  others ;  that  is,  I  tried  to  occupy  it  nights.  I  tried  to  get  the 
clerk  to  throw  off  something  because  I  didn't  have  the  exclusive  use  of  the 
room.  He  wouldn't  throw  off  anything.  He  even  wanted  to  fight  me  because 
I  said  that  the  room  was  occupied  before  I  got  it  and  after  I  left  it.  Finally, 
I  told  him  that  if  he  would  throw  a  bed  quilt  over  his  diamond,  so  I  could  see 
him,  I  would  fight  him  with  buckwheat  cakes  at  five-hundred  miles,  I  took 
my  position  the  next  morning  at  the  place  appointed,  but  he  did  not  appear. 


Extraetj  from  a  Queer's  Diary. 

^^'^ANUAKY  1. — I  aAvoke  lata  tliis  forenoon  with  a  pain  tlirougli  the  head 
•^j^  and  a  taste  of  ennui  in  the  mouth,  which  I  can  hardly  account  for.  Can 
(M)^    it  be  a  result  of  the  party  last  evening  ?     I  ween  it  may  be  so.     We  had 

■^'^  a  lovely  card  party  last  evening.  It  was  very  enjoyable,  indeed.  Whist 
was  the  game. 

January  3. — Yesterday  all  day  I  was  unable  to  leave  my  room,  owing  to  a 
headache  and  nervous  prostration,  caused  by  late  hours  and  too  much  company, 
the  doctor  said.  It  is  too  bad,  and  yet  I  do  so  much  enjoy  our  card  parties 
and  the  excitement  of  the  game.  To-night  I  am  to  take  part  in  a  little  quiet 
game  of  draw  poker,  I  think  they  call  it.  I  have  not  had  any  experience  here- 
tofore in  the  game,  but  trust  I  shall  soon  learn  it.  There  has  been  some  talk 
about  £1  ante  and  £5  limit.  I  do  not  exactly  understand  the  terms.  I  hope 
it  does  not  mean  anything  wrong. 

January  4. — Poker  is  an  odd  game,  indeed.  I  think  it  quite  exciting, 
though  at  first  the  odd  terms  rather  confused  me.  I  had  not  been  accustomed 
to  such  phrases  as  "show  down,"  "bob-tail  flush,"  and  "King  full."  I  must 
ask  Brown,  as  soon  as  his  knees  are  able  to  be  out,  to  explain  the  meaning  of 
these  terms  a  little  more  fully  to  me.  If  poor  Brown's  knees  are  not  better 
soon,  I  shall  be  on  kneesy  about  him.  [Here  the  diary  has  the  appearance  of 
being  blurred  with  tears.  ]  A  bob-tail  flush,  I  learn,  is  something  very  dis- 
agreeable to  have.  One  gentleman  said  last  evening  that  another  bob-tail 
flush  would  certainly  paralyze  him.  I  gather  from  that  that  it  is  something 
like  a  hectic  flush.  I  can  understand  the  game  called  "old  sledge,"  and  have 
become  quite  familiar  with  such  terms  as  "beg,"  "gimmeone,"  "I've  got  the 
thin  one,"  "how  high  is  that?"  "one  horse  on  me,"  "saw-off,"  etc.,  etc.,  but 
poker  is  full  of  surprises.  It  seems  so  odd  to  see  a  gentleman  "show  out  on 
a  pair  of  deuces"  and  gather  in  upward  of  two  pounds  with  great  merriment, 
while  the  remainder  of  the  party  seem  quite  bored.  One  gentleman  last  eve- 
ning showed  out  on  a  full  hand  with  "  treys  at  the  head,"  putting  £.3  12s.  in 
his  purse  with  great  glee,  while  another  one  of  the  party  who  had  not  shown 

(385) 


3SG  EEMARKM    BY    BILL    NYE. 

up,  but  I  am  j^ositivo  had  a  better  hand,  became  so  angered  that  he  got  up 
and  kicked  four  front  teeth  out  of  the  mouth  of  a  favorite  dog  worth  £20,  I 
took  part  in  a  spade  flush  during  the  evening  aud  was  quite  successful,  so  that 
I  can  easil}'  pay  my  traveling  expenses  and  have  a  few  shillings  to  buy  oint- 
ment for  poor  Brown.  It  was  my  first  winning,  and  made  me  quiver  all  over 
with  excitement.  The  game  is  already  very  fascinating  to  me,  and  I  am  be- 
coming passionately  fond  of  it. 

January  G. — I  have  just  learned  fully  what  a  bob-tail  flush  is.  It  cost  me 
£50.  I  like  information,  but  I  do  not  like  to  buy  it  when  it  comes  so  high.  I 
drew  two  to  fill  in  a  heart  flush  last  evening,  and  advanced  the  money  to  back 
up  my  judgment;  but  one  of  the  hearts  I  drew  was  a  club,  which  was  entirely 
useless  to  me.  I  have  sent  out  a  sheriff  with  a  bulldog  to  ascertain  if  he  can 
find  the  whereabouts  of  the  party  who  started  this  poker  game,  I  do  not 
know  when  I  have  felt  so  bored.  After  that  I  was  so  timid  that  I  allowed  a 
friend  to  walk  off  with  £2  on  a  pair  of  deuces.  I  said  to  him  that  I  called 
that  a  deuced  bore,  and  he  laughed  heartily. 

I  find  that  you  should  not  be  too  ready  to  show  by  your  countenance 
whether  you  are  bored  or  j^deased  in  poker.  Your  opponent  will  take  advant- 
age of  it  and  play  accordingly.  It  cost  me  £8  10s.  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of 
this  fact.  If  all  the  information  I  ever  got  had  cost  me  as  much  as  this  poker 
wisdom,  I  would  not  now  have  two  pennies  to  jingle  together  in  my  purse.  Still, 
we  have  had  a  good  time,  take  it  all  in  all,  and  I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  eve- 
nings we  have  spent  here  together  buying  knowledge  regardless  of  cost.  I 
think  I  shall  try  to  control  my  wild  thirst  for  information  awhile,  however,  till 
I  can  get  some  more  funds. 

[Here  the  diary  breaks  off  abruptly,  and  on  turning  the  book  over  we  find 
the  royal  signature  at  the  foot  of  the  last  page,  "The  Queen  of  Spades."] 


5f?ort5. 


COLOEADO  burro  lias  been  shipped  across  the  Atlantic  and  presented 
Wvhi  ^^  ^^^®  Prince  of  Wales.  It  is  a  matter  of  profound  national  sorrow 
JtilK  ^^^^^  ^^^^®  ^^^®  ^^^  ^^^®  ^^'^^  American  jackass  presented  to  his  Tallness, 
~^"^     the  Prince. 

At  Omaha  last  week  a  barrel  of  sauer  kraut  rolled  out  of  a  wagon  and 
struck  O'Leary  H.  Oleson,  wlio  was  trying  to  unload  it,  with  such  force  as  to 
kill  him  instantly  and  to  flatten  him  out  like  a  kiln-dried  codfish.  Still,  after 
thousands  of  such  instances  on  record,  there  are  many  scientists  who  maintain 
that  sauer  kraut  is  conducive  to  longevity. 

As  an  evidence  of  the  healthfulness  of  mountain  climate,  the  people  of 
Denver  point  to  a  man  who  came  there  in  '77  without  flesh  enough  to  bait  a 
trap,  and  now  he  puts  sleeves  in  an  ordinary  feather-bed  and  pulls  it  on  over 
his  head  for  a  shirt.  People  in  poor  health  who  wish  to  communicate  with 
the  writer  in  relation  to  the  facts  above  stated,  are  requested  to  enclose  two 
unlicked  postage  stamps  to  insure  a  reply. 

At  Tibet,  M.  T.,  during  the  cold  snap  in  January,  one  of  the  most  inhuman 
outrages  known  in  the  annals  of  crime  was  perpetrated  upon  a  young  man  who 
went  West  in  the  fall,  hoping  to  make  his  pile  in  time  to  return  in  May  and 
marry  the  New  York  heiress  selected  before  he  went. 

While  stopping  at  the  hotel,  two  frolicsome  young  women  hired  the  porter 
to  procure  the  young  man's  pantaloons  at  dead  of  night.  They  then  sewed 
up  the  bottoms  of  the  legs,  threw  the  doctored  garment  back  through  the 
transom  and  squealed  "Fire!" 

When  he  got  into  the  hall  he  was  vainly  trying  to  stab  one  foot  through 
the  limb  of  his  pantaloons  while  he  danced  around  on  the  other  and  joined  in 
the  general  cry  of  "Fire!"  The  hall  seemed  filled  with  people,  who  were 
running  this  way  and  that,  ostensibly  seeking  a  mode  of  egress  from  the  flames, 
but  in  reality  trying  to  dodge  the  mad  efforts  of  the  young  man,  who  was  try- 
ing to  insert  himself  in  his  obstinate  pantaloons. 

(S87) 


388 


REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


He  did  not  tumble,  as  it  were,  until  the  night  watchman  got  a  Babcock  fire 
extinguisher  and  played  on  him.  I  do  not  know  what  he  played  on  him. 
Very  likely  it  was,  "Sister,  what  are  the  wild  waves  saying?" 

Anyway,  he  staggered  into  his  room,  and  although  he  could  hear  the  audi- 
ence outside  in  their  wild,  tumultuous  encore,  he  refused  to  come  before  the 
curtain,  but  locked  his  door  and  sobbed  himself  to  sleep. 

How  often  do  we  forget  the  finer  feelings  of  others  and  ignore  their  sor- 
row, while  we  revel  in  some  great  joy. 


a 


U/e." 


^HE  world  is  full  of  literary  people  to-day,   and  they  are  divided  into 
three  classes,  viz:     Those  who  have  written  for  the  press,  those  who 
*^''l^f    are  writing  for  the  press,  and  those  Avho  want  to  write  for  the  press. 
^      Of  the  first,  there  are  those  who  tried  it  and  found  that  they  could 
make  more  in  half  the  time  at  something  else,  and  so  quit  the  field,  and  those 
who  failed  to  touch  the  great  heart  and  pocketbook  of  the  public,  and  therefcn-e 
subsided.     Those  who  are  writing  for  the  press  now,  whether  putting  together 
copy  by  the  mile  within  the  sound  of  the  rumbling  engine  and  press,  or  scat- 
tered through  the  country  writing  more  at  their  leisure,  find  that  they  have  to 
lay  aside  every  weight  and  throw  off  all  the  incumbrances  of  the  mossy  past. 
One  thing,  however,  still  clings  to  the  editor  like  a  dab  of  paste  on  a  white 
vest  or  golden  fleck  of  scrambled  egg  on  a  tawny  moustache.      One  relic  of 
barbarism  rears  in  gaunt  form  amid  the  clash  and  hurry  and  rush  of  civiliza- 
tion, and  in  the  dazzling  light  of  science  and  smartness. 
It  is  "Ave." 

The  budding  editor  of  the  rural  civilizer  for  the  first  time  peels  his  coat 
and  sharpens  his  pencil  to  begin  the  work  of  changing  the  great  current  of 
public  opinion.  He  is  strong  in  his  desire  to  knock  error  and  wrong  galley 
west.  He  has  buckled  on  his  armor  to  paralyze  monopoly  and  purify  the  ballot. 
He  has  hitched  up  his  pantaloons  with  a  noble  resolve  and  covered  his  table 
with  virgin  paper. 

He  is  young,  and  he  is  a  little  egotistical,  also.  He  wants  to  say,  "I  be- 
lieve" so  and  so,  but  he  can't.  Perspiration  breaks  out  all  over  him.  He 
bites  his  pencil,  and  looks  up  with  his  clenched  hand  in  his  hair.  The  slimy 
demon  of  the  editor's  life  is  there,  sitting  on  the  cloth  bound  volume  contain- 
ing the  report  of  the  United  States  superintendent  of  swine  diseases. 

Wherever  you  find  a  young  man  unloading  a  Washington  hand  press  to 
fill  a  long-felt  want,  there  you  will  find  the  ghastly  and  venomous  "we,"  ready 
to  look  over  the  shoulder  of  the  timid  young  mental  athlete.  Wherever  you 
find   a  ring  of  printer's  ink  around  the  door  knob,  and  the  snowy  towel  on 

(3S9) 


390  REMARKS   BY    BILL   NYE. 

wliicli  the  foreman  wipes  the  pink  tips  of  his  alabaster  fingers,  you  will  find 
the  slimy,  scaly  folds  of  "we"  curled  up  in  some  neighboring  corner. 

From  the  huge  metropolitan  journal,  whose  subscribers  could  make  or  bust 
a  president,  or  make  a  blooming  king  wish  he  had  never  been  born,  down  to 
the  obscure  and  unknown  dodger  whose  first  page  is  mostly  electrotype  head, 
whose  second  and  third  pages  are  patent,  whose  news  is  eloquent  of  the  dear 
dead  past,  whose  fourth  page  ushers  in  a  new  baby,  or  heralds  the  coming  of 
the  circus,  or  promulgates  the  fact  that  its  giant  editor  has  a  felon  on  his 
thumb,  the  trail  of  the  serpent  "we"  is  over  them  all.  It  is  all  we  have  to 
remind  us  of  royalty  in  America,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  the  case  now 
and  then  where  a  king  full  busts  a  bob-tail  flush. 


I^^i  EPTEMBER  does  not  always  indicate  golden  sunshine,  and  ripening 
V^\1>    ^o"^'  ^""-^  o^^^  g*^^*^^  pumpkin  pies  on  the  half-shell.     We  look  upon  it  as 

'i^^^    the  month  of  glorious  })erfection  in   the  handiwork  of  the  seasons  and 
"^J"'      the  time  when  the  ripened  fruits  are  falling;  when  the  red  sun  hides 
behind  the  bronze  and  misty  evening,  and  says  good  night  with  reluctance  to 
the  beautiful  harvests  and  the  approching  twilight  of  the  year. 

It  was  on  a  red  letter  day  of  this  kind,  years  ago,  that  Wheeler  and  myself 
started  out  under  the  charge  of  Judge  Blair  and  Sheriff  Baswell  to  visit  the 
mines  at  Last  Chance,  and  more  especially  the  Keystone,  a  gold  mine  that  the 
Judge  had  recently  become  president  of.  The  soft  air  of  second  summer  in 
the  Eocky  Mountains  blew  gently  past  our  ears  as  we  rode  up  the  valley  of 
the  Little  Laramie,  to  camp  the  first  night  at  the  head  of  the  valley  behind 
Sheep  Mountain.  The  whole  party  was  full  of  joy.  Even  Judge  Blair,  with 
the  frosts  of  over  sixty  winters  in  his  hair,  broke  forth  into  song.  That's  the 
only  thing  I  ever  had  against  Judge  Blair.  He  would  forget  himself  some- 
times and  burst  forth  into  song. 

The  following  day  we  crossed  the  divide  and  rode  down  the  gulch  into  the 
camp  on  Douglass  Creek,  where  the  musical  thunder  of  the  stamp  mills  seemed 
to  jar  the  ground,  and  the  rapid  stream  below  bore  away  on  its  turbid  bosom 
the  yellowish  tinge  of  the  golden  quartz.  It  was  a  perfect  day,  and  Wheeler 
and  I  blessed  our  stars  and,  instead  of  breathing  the  air  of  sour  paste  and  hot 
presses  in  the  newspaper  offices,  away  in  the  valley,  we  were  sprawling  in  the 
glorious  sunshine  of  the  hills,  playing  draw  poker  with  the  miners  in  the  even- 
ing, and  forgetful  of  the  daily  newspaper  where  one  man  does  the  work  and 
the  other  draws  the  salary.  It  was  heaven.  It  was  such  luxury  that  we  wanted 
to  swing  our  hats  and  yell  like  Arapahoes. 

The  next  morning  we  were  surprised  to  find  that  it  had  snowed  all  night 
and  was  snowing  still.  I  never  saw  such  flakes  of  snow  in  my  life.  They 
came  sauntering  through  the  air  like  pure,  white  Turkish  towels  falling  from 
celestial  clothes-lines.  We  did  not  return  that  day.  AVe  played  a  few  games 
of  chance,  but  they  were  brief.     We  finally  made  it  five  cent  ante,  and,  as  I 

(391) 


392 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


■was  working  then  for  an  alleged  newspaper  man  who  paid  me  $50  per  month 
to  edit  his  paper  nights  and  take  care  of  his  children  daytimes,  I  couldn't 
keep  abreast  of  the  Judge,  the  Sheriff  and  the  Superintendent  of  the  Keystone. 
The  next  day  we  had  to  go  home.  The  snow  lay  ankle-deep  everywhere 
and  the  air  was  chilly  and  raw.  Wheeler  and  I  tried  to  ride,  but  the  mountain 
road  was  so  rough  that  the  horses  could  barely  move  through  the  snow,  drag- 
ging the  buggy  after  them.  So  we  got  out  and  walked  on  ahead  to  keep  warm. 
We  gained  very  fast  on  the  team,  for  we  were  both  long-legged  and  measured 
off  the  miles  like  a  hired  man  going  to  dinner.     I  wore  a  pair  of  glove-fitting 

low  shoes  and  lisle-thread  socks.  I  can  re- 
member that  yet.  I  would  advise  anyone 
going  into  the  mines  not  to  wear  lisle-thread 
socks  and  low  shoes.  You  are  liable  to  stick 
your  foot  into  a  snow-bank  or  a  mud  hole 
and  dip  up  too  much  water.  I  remember  that 
after  we  had  walked  through  the  pine  woods 
down  the  mountain  road  a  few  miles,  I  no- 
ticed that  the  bottoms  of  my  pantaloons 
looked  like  those  of  a  drowned  tramp  I  saw 
many  years  ago  in  the  morgue.  We  gave 
out  after  a  while,  waited  for  the  team,  but 
decided  that  it  had  gone  the  other  road.  All 
at  once  it  flashed  over  us  that  we  were  alone 
in  the  woods  and  the  storm,  wet,  nearly 
starved,  ignorant  of  the  road  and  utterly 
worn  out! 

It  was  tough! 

I  never  felt  so  blue,  so  wet,  so  hungry,  or  so  hopeless  in  my  life.  We 
moved  on  a  little  farther.  All  at  once  we  came  out  of  the  timber.  There  was 
no  snow  whatever!  At  that  moment  the  sun  burst  forth,  we  struck  a  deserted 
supply  wagon,  found  a  two-pound  can  of  Boston  baked  beans,  got  an  axe  from 
the  load,  chopped  open  the  can,  and  had  just  finished  the  tropical  fruit  of 
Massachusetts  when  our  own  team  drove  up,  and  joy  and  hope  made  their 
homes  once  more  in  our  hearts. 

We  may  learn  from  this  a  valuable  lesson,  but  at  this  moment  I  do  not 
know  exactly  what  it  is. 


IT    WAS    TOUGH. 


IpS^  fr\oi)ey. 


:OST  anyone  could  collect  and  tell  a  good  many  incidents  about  losf 
money  that  has  been  found,  if  he  would  try,  but  these  cases  came 
||i-iy1\l     under  my  own  observation  and  I  can  vouch  for  their  truth. 
^^^^i^^^^  A  farmer  in  the  Kinnekinnick  Valley  was  paid  ^1,000  while  he 

was  loading  hay.  He  put  it  in  his  vest  pocket,  and  after  he  had  unloaded  the 
hay  he  discovered  that  he  had  lost  it,  and  no  doubt  had  pitched  the  whole  load 
into  the  mow  on  top  of  it.  He  went  to  work  and  pitched  it  all  out,  a  handful 
at  a  time,  upon  the  barn  floor,  and  when  the  hired  man's  fork  tine  came  up 
with  a  3100  bill  on  it  he  knew  they  had  struck  a  lead.     He  got  it  all. 

A  man  gave  me  two  $5  bills  once  to  pay  a  balance  on  some  store  teeth  and 
asked  me  to  bring  the  teeth  back  with  me.  The  dentist  was  fifteen  miles  away 
and  when  I  got  there  I  found  I  had  lost  the  money.  That  was  before  I  had 
amassed  much  of  a  fortune,  so  I  went  to  the  tooth  foundry  and  told  the  fore- 
man that  I  had  started  with  $10  to  get  a  set  of  teeth  for  an  intimate  friend, 
but  had  lost  the  funds.  He  said  that  my  intimate  friend  would,  no  doubt,  have 
to  gum  it  awhile.  Owing  to  the  recent  shrinkage  in  values  he  was  obliged  to 
sell  teeth  for  cash,  as  the  goods  were  comparatively  useless  after  they  had  been 
used  one  season.  I  went  back  over  the  same  road  the  next  day  and  found  the 
money  by  the  side  of  the  road,  although  a  hundred  teams  had  passed  by  it. 

A  young  man,  one  spring,  plowed  a  pocket-book  and  $30  in  greenbacks 
under,  and  by  a  singular  coincidence  the  next  spring  it  was  plowed  out,  and, 
though  rotten  clear  through,  was  sent  to  the  Treasury,  where  it  was  discovered 
that  the  bills  were  on  a  Michigan  National  Bank,  whither  they  were  sent  and 
redeemed. 

I  lost  a  roll  of  a  hundred  dollars  the  spring  of  '82,  and  hunted  my  house 
and  the  office  through,  in  search  for  it,  in  vain.  I  went  over  the  road  between 
the  office  and  the  house  twenty  times,  but  it  was  useless.  I  then  advertised  the 
loss  of  the  money,  giving  the  different  denominations  of  the  bills  and  stating, 

(393) 


394  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

as  was  the  case,  that  there  was  an  ehastic  band  around  the  roll  when  lost.  The 
paper  liad  not  been  issued  more  than  an  hour  before  I  got  my  money,  every 
dollar  of  it.     It  was  in  the  pocket  of  my  other  vest. 

This  should  teach  us,  first,  the  value  of  advertising,  and,  secondly,  the  ut- 
ter folly  of  two  vests  at  the  same  time. 

Apropos  of  recent  bank  failures,  I  want  to  tell  this  one  on  James  S.  Kelley, 
ci^mmonly  called  "Black  Jim."  He  failed  himself  along  in  the  fifties,  and  by 
a  big  struggle  had  made  out  to  pay  everybody  but  Lo  Bartlett,  to  whom  he 
was  indebted  in  the  sum  of  ^18.  He  got  this  money,  finally,  and  as  Lo  wasn't 
in  town,  Black  Jim  put  it  in  a  bank,  the  name  of  which  has  long  ago  sunk 
into  oblivion.  In  fact,  it  began  the  oblivion  business  about  forty-eight  hours 
after  Jim  had  put  his  funds  in  there. 

Meeting  Lo  on  the  street,  Jim  said: 

"Your  money  is  up  in  the  Wild  Cat  Bank,  Lo.  I'll  give  you  a  check 
for  it." 

"No  use,  old  man,  she's  gone  up." 

"No!  !" 

"  Yes,  she's  a  total  wreck." 

Jim  went  over  to  the  president's  room.  He  knocked  as  easy  as  he  could, 
considering  that  his  breath  was  coming  so  harcL 

"Who's  there?" 

"It's  Jim  Kelley,  Black  Jim,  and  I'm  in  something  of  a  hurry." 

"  Well,  I'm  very  busy,  Mr.  Kelley.     Come  again  this  afternoon." 

"  That  will  be  too  remote.  I  am  very  busy  myself.  Now  is  the  accepted 
time.      Will  you  open  the  door  or  shall  I  open  it." 

The  president  opened  it  because  it  was  a  good  door  and  he  wanted  to  pre- 
serve it. 

Black  Jim  turned  the  key  in  the  door  and  sat  down. 

"What  did  you  want  of  me?"  says  the  president. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you  about  a  certificate  of  deposit  I've  got  here  on  your 
bank  for  eighteen  dollars." 

"  We  can't  pay  it.     Everything  is  gone." 

"Well,  I  am  here  to  get  $18  or  to  leave  you  looking  like  a  giblet  pie. 
Eighteen  dollars  will  relieve  you  of  this  mental  strain,  but  if  you  do  not  put 
up  I  will  paper  this  wall  with  your  classic  features  and  ruin  the  carpet  with 
what  remains." 


LOST   MONEY.  395 

The  president  hesitated  a  moment.  Then  ho  took  a  roll  out  of  his  boot  and 
paid  Jim  eighteen  dollars. 

"You  will  not  mention  this  on  the  street,  of  course,"  said  the  president. 

"No,"  says  Jim,  "not  till  I  get  there." 

When  the  crowd  got  back,  however,  the  president  had  fled  and  he  has  re- 
mained fled  ever  since.  The  longer  he  remained  away  and  thought  it  over,  the 
more  he  became  attached  to  Canada,  and  the  more  of  a  confirmed  and  incur- 
able fugitive  he  became. 

I  saw  Black  Jim  last  evening  and  he  said  he  had  passed  through  two  bank 
failures,  but  had  always  realized  on  his  certificates  of  deposit.  One  cashier 
told  Jim  that  he  was  the  homeliest  man  that  ever  looked  through  the  window 
of  a  busted  bank.  He  said  Kelley  looked  like  a  man  who  ate  bank  cashiers  on 
toast  and  directors  raw  with  a  slice  of  lemon  on  top. 


Dr.  Dizart'5  Do(^. 

AsS^  MAN  whose  motlier-iii-law  had  been  successfully  treated  by  the  doctor, 
J f r  "Vf  °^®  '^^y  presented  him  with  a  beautiful  Italian  hound  named  Nemesis. 
^Ic^%  When  I  say  that  the  able  physician  had  treated  the  mother-in-law  suc- 
-sjs,:sr'  cessfully,  I  mean  successfully  from  her  son-in-law's  standpoint,  and  not 
from  her  own,  for  the  doctor  insisted  on  treating  her  for  small-pox  when  she 
had  nothing  but  an  attack  of  agnostics.  She  is  now  sitting  on  the  front  stoop 
of  the  ofolden  whence. 

So,  after  the  last  sad  rites,  the  broken-hearted  son-in-law  presented  the 
physician  with  a  handsome  hound  with  long,  slender  legs  and  a  wire  tail,  as  a 
token  of  esteem  and  regard. 

The  dog  was  young  and  playful,  as  all  young  dogs  are,  so  he  did  many  lit- 
tle tricks  which  amused  almost  everyone. 

One  day,  while  the  doctor  was  away  administering  a  subcutaneous  injection 
of  morphine  to  a  hay-fever  patient,  he  left  Nemesis  in  the  office  alone  with  a 
piece  of  rag-carpet  and  his  surging  thoughts. 

At  first  Nemesis  closed  his  eyes  and  breathed  hard,  then  he  arose  and  ate 
part  of  an  ottoman,  then  he  got  up  and  scratched  the  paper  off  the  office  wall 
and  whined  in  a  sad  tone  of  voice. 

A  young  Italian  hound  has  a  peculiarly  sad  and  depressing  song. 

Then  Nemesis  got  up  on  the  desk  and  poured  the  ink  and  mucilage  into 
one  of  the  di"awers  on  some  bandages  and  condition-powders  that  the  doctor 
used  in  his  horse-practice. 

Nemesis  then  looked  out  of  the  window  and  wailed.  He  filled  the  room 
with  robust  wail  and  unavailing  regret. 

After  that  he  tried  to  dispel  his  e)iiiui  with  one  of  the  doctor's  old  felt  hats 
that  liuncr  on  a  chair ;  but  the  hair  oil  with  which  it  was  saturated  changed  his 
mind. 

The  doctor  had  magenta  hair,  and  to  tone  it  down  so  that  it  would  not  raise 
the  rate  of  fire  insurance  on  his  office,  he  used  to  execute  some  studies  on  it  in 
oil — bear's  oil. 

(396) 


DR.    DIZART  S   DOG. 


397 


This  gave  his  hair  a  rich  mahogany  shade,  and  his  hat  smelled  and  looked 
like  an  oil  refinery. 

That  is  the  reason  Nemesis  spared  the  hat,  and  ate  a  couple  of  porous- 
plasters  that  his  master  was  going  to  use  on  a  case  of  croup. 

At  that  time  the  doctor  came  in,  and  the  dog  ran  to  him  with  a  glad  cry 
of  pleasure,  rubbing  his  cold  nose  against  his  master's  hand.     The  able  yeter- 


BUSTLE   AND    CONFUSION. 

inarian  spoke  roughly  to  Nemesis,  and  throwing  a  cigar-stub  at  him,  broke 
two  of  the  animal's  delicate  legs. 

After  that  there  was  a  low  discordant  murmur  and  tlio  angry  hum  of  medi- 
cal works,  lung-testers,  glass  jars  containing  tumors  and  other  bric-a-brac, 
paper-weights  and  Italian  grayhound  bisecting  the  orbit  of  a  red-headed  horse- 
physician  with  dude  shoes. 

When  the  police  came  in,  it  was  found  that  Nemsis  had  jumped  through  a 
glass  door  and  escaped  on  two  legs  and  his  ear. 

Out  through  the  autumnal  haze,  across  the  intervening  plateau,  over  the 
low  foot-hills,  and  up  the  Medicine  Bow  Eange,  on  and  ever  onward  sped  the 


398  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

timid,  grieved  and  broken-hearted  pup,  accumulating  with  wonderful  eager- 
ness the  intervening  distance  between  himself  and  the  cruel  promoter  of  the 
fly -blister  and  lingering  death. 

How  often  do  we  thoughtlessly  grieve  the  hearts  of  those  who  love  us,  and 
drive  forth  into  the  pitiless  world  those  who  would  gladly  lick  our  hands  with 
their  warm  loving  tongues,  or  warm  their  cold  noses  in  the  meshes  of  our 
necks. 

How  prone  we  are  to  forget  the  devotion  of  a  dumb  brute  that  thoughtlessly 
eats  our  lace  lambrequins,  and  ere  we  have  stopped  to  consider  our  mad  course, 
we  have  driven  the  loving  heart  and  the  warm  wet  tongue  and  the  cold  little 
black  nose  out  of  our  home-life,  perhaps  into  the  cold,  cold  grave  or  the  bleak 
and  relentless  pound. 


Q7i9<?S(?  Jd5tiee. 


i 
.r 


wHEY  do  things  difPerently  iu  China.      Here  in  America,  when  a  man 
^•^    burgles  your  residence,  you  go  and  confide  in  a  detective,  who  keeps 


your  secret  and  gets  another  detective  to  help  him.  Generally  that  is 
^  the  last  of  it.  In  China,  not  long  ago,  the  house  of  a  missionary  was 
entered  and  valuables  taken  by  the  thieves.  The  missionary  went  to  the  au- 
thorities with  his  tale  and  told  them  whom  he  suspected.  That's  the  last  he 
heard  of  that  for  three  weeks.  Then  he  received  a  covered  champagne  bas- 
ket from  the  Department  of  Justice.  On  opening  it  he  found  the  heads  of  the 
suspected  burglars  packed  in  tinfoil  and  in  a  good  state  of  preseiwation.  These 
heads  were  not  sent  necessarily  for  publication,  but  as  an  evidence  of  good 
faith  on  the  part  of  the  Department  of  Unimpeded  Justice.  Mind  you,  there 
was  no  postponement  of  the  preliminary  examination,  no  dilatory  motions  and 
changes  of  venue,  no  pleas  to  the  jurisdiction  of  the  court,  no  legal  delays  and 
final  challenges  of  jurors  until  an  idiotic  jury  had  been  procured  who  hadn't 
read  the  papers,  no  ruling  out  of  damaging  testimony,  and  finally  filing  of  bill 
of  exceptions,  no  appeal  and  delay,  or  appeal  afterward  to  another  court  which 
returned  the  defendant  to  the  court  of  original  jurisdiction  for  review, 
and  years  of  waiting  for  the  prosecuting  witnesses  to  die  of  old  age  and  thus  re- 
lease the  defendant.  There  is  nothing  of  that  kind  in  China.  You  just  hand 
in  your  orders  to  the  judicial  end  of  the  administration,  and  then  you  retire. 
Later  on,  the  delivery  man  brings  in  your  package  of  heads,  makes  a  salaam, 
and  goes  away. 

Now,  this  is  swift  and  speedy  justice  for  you.  I  don't  know  how  the  guilt 
of  the  defendants  is  arrived  at,  but  there's  nothing  tedious  about  it.  At  least, 
there's  nothing  tedious  to  the  complainant.  I  presume  they  make  it  red-hot 
for  the  criminal. 

Still  this  style  of  justice  has  its  drawbacks.  For  instance,  you  are  at  din- 
ner. You  have  a  large  and  select  company  dining  with  you.  You  are  about 
to  caiTe  the  roast.     There  is  a  ring  at  the  door.     The  servant  announces  that 

(399) 


400  REMAllKS    BY    BILL     NYE. 

a  judicial  officer  is  at  the  drawbridge  and  desires  to  speak  with  you.  You  pull 
your  napkin  out  of  your  bosom,  lay  the  carving  knife  down  on  the  virgin  table 
cloth,  and  go  to  the  door.  There  the  minister  of  justice  presents  you  with  a 
champagne  basket  and  retires.  You  return  to  the  dining  hall,  leaving  your 
basket  on  the  sideboard.  After  a  while  you  announce  to  your  guests  that  you 
have  just  received  a  basket  of  Mumm's  extra  dry  with  the  compliments  of  the 
government,  and  that  you  will,  with  the  permission  of  those  present,  open  a 
bottle.  You  arm  yourself  with  a  corkscrew,  open  the  basket,  and  thoughtlessly 
tip  it  over,  when  two  or  three  human  heads,  with  a  pained  and  grieved  expres- 
sion on  the  face,  roll  out  on  the  table. 

When  you  are  looking  for  a  quart  bottle  of  sparkling  wine  and  find  instead 
the  cold,  sad  features  and  reproachful  stare  of  the  extremely  deceased  and  hie 
jacet  Chinaman,  you  naturally  betray  your  chagrin.  I  like  to  see  justice  mod- 
erately swift,  and,  in  fact  I've  seen  it  pretty  forthwith  in  its  movements  two  or 
three  times ;  but  I  cannot  say  that  I  would  be  prepared  for  this  style. 

Perhaps  I'm  getting  a  little  nervous  in  my  old  age,  and  a  small  matter  jars 
my  equilibrium ;  but  I'm  sure  a  basket  of  heads  handed  in  as  I  was  seated  at 
the  table  would  startle  me  a  little  at  first,  and  I  might  forget  myself. 

A  fi-iend  of  mine,  under  such  circumstances,  made  what  the  English  would 
call  "  a  doosed  clevah  "  remark  once  in  Shanghai.  When  he  opened  the  bas- 
ket he  was  horrified,  but  he  was  cool.  He  was  old  sang  froid  from  Sangfroid- 
ville.  He  first  took  the  basket  and  started  for  the  back  room,  with  the  remark : 
"My  fi"iends,  I  guess  you  will  have  to  ex-queuese  me."  Then  he  pulled  down 
his  eyelids  and  laughed  a  hoarse  English  laugh. 


f\r)^\u<^r^  to  <5orr(^5po9d(^9t5. 


-The  boxing  glove  is  a 


ALLEE. — Your  calling   cards  sliould  be  modest  as  to  size  and  neatly 
engraved,  with  an  extra  flourish. 

In  calling,  there  are  two  important  things  to  be  considered:    First, 
when  to  call,  and,  second,  when  to  rise  and  hang  on  the  door  handle. 

Some  make  one-third  of  the  call  before  rising,  and  then  complete  the 
call  while  airing  the  house  and  holding  the  door  open,  while  others  con- 
sider this  low  and  vulgar,  making  at  least  one-fourth 
of  the  call  in  the  hall,  and  one-half  between  the  front 
door  and  the  gate.  Different  authorities  differ  as  to 
the  proper  time  for  calling.  Some  think  you  should 
not  call  before  3  or  after  5  P.  M. ,  but  if  you  have  had 
any  experience  and  had  ordinary  sense  to  start  with,  v_^ 
you  will  knoAV  when  to  call  as  soon  as  you  look  at  /J^gJ 
your  hand. 

Amateur  Prize  Fighter.- 
large  upholstered  buckskin  mitten,  with  an  abnormal 
thumb  and  a  string  by  which  it  is  attached  to  the 
wrist,   so  that  when  you  feed  it  to  an  adversary  he 
cannot  swallow  it  and  choke  himself.     There  are  two  kinds  of  gloves,  viz.,  hard 
gloves  and  soft  gloves. 

I  once  fought  with  soft  gloves  to  a  finish  with  a  young  man  who  was  far 
my  inferior  intellectually,  but  he  exceeded  me  in  brute  force  and  knowledge 
of  the  use  of  the  gloves.  He  was  not  so  tall,  but  he  was  wider  than  myself. 
Longitudinally  he  was  my  inferior,  but  latitudinally  he  outstripped  me.  We 
did  not  fight  a  regular  prize-fight.  It  was  just  done  for  pleasure.  But  I  do 
not  think  we  should  abandon  ourselves  entirely  to  pleasure.  It  is  enervating, 
and  makes  one  eye  swell  up  and  turn  blue. 

I  still  think  that  a  young  man  ought  to  have  a  knowledge  of  the  manly  art 
of  sr^lf-defense,  and  if  I  could  acquire  such  a  knowledge  without  getting  into 
a  fight  about  it  I  would  surely  learn  how  to  defend  myself. 

(401) 


402 


REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


The  boxing  glove  is  worn  on  the  hand  of  one  party,  and  on  the  gory  nose  of 

the  other  party  as  the  game  j)rogresses.     Soft  gk)ves  very  rarely  kill   anyone, 

unless  they  work  down  into  the  bronchial  tubas  and  shut  off  the  respiration. 
Lecturer,  New  York  City. — You  need  not  worry 

so  much  about  your  costume  until  you  have  written 

your  lecture,  and  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to 

test  the  public  a  little,  if  possible,  before 

do  much  expensive  printing.   Your 

idea  seems  to  be  that  a  man  should 

get   a  fine  lithograph  of  himself 

and   a  §100   suit  of   clothes,    and 

then  write   his  lecture   to   fit   the 

lithograph  and  the  clothes.      That 

is  erroneous. 

Y'^ou  say  that  you  have  written 

a  part  of  your  lecture,  but  do  not 

feel  satisfied  with  it.      In  this  you 

will    no  doubt   find  many    people 

who  will  agree  with  you. 

You  could  wear  a  full  dress  suit  of  l^lack  with  propriety, 
or  a  Prince  Albert  coat,  with  your  hand  thrust  into  the 
bosom  of  it.  I  once  lectured  on  the  subject  of  phrenology 
in  the  southern  portion  of  Utah,  being  at  that  time  tempo- 
rarily busted,  but  still  hoping  to  tide  over  the  dull  times  by 
delivering  a  lecture  on  the  subject  of  "Brains,  and  how  to 
detect  their  presence."  I  was  not  supplied  with  a  phreno- 
logical bust  at  that  time,  and  as  such  a  thing  is  almost 
indispensable,  I  borrowed  a  young  man  from  Provost  and 
induced  him  to  act  as  bust  for  the  evening.  He  did  so  with 
thrilling  effect,  taking  the  entire  gross  receipts  of  the  lecture 
course  from  my  coat  pocket  while  I  was  illustrating  the 
effect  of  alcoholic  stimulants  on  the  raw  brain  of  an  adult 
in  a  state  of  health. 
You  can  remove  spots  of  egg  from  your  full  dress  suit  with  ammonia  and 

water,  applied  by  means  of  a  common  nail  brush.      You  do  not  ask  for  this 

recipe,  but,  judging  from  your  style,  I  hope  that  it  may  be  of  use  to  you. 


HE  EXCEEDED  ME  IN  BRUTE  FORCE. 


MAKING   REPAIRS. 


ANSWERS    TO    CORRESPONDENTS.  403 

Martin  F.  Tupper,  Texas. — The  poem  to  which  you  allude  was  written  by 
Julia  A.  Moore,  better  known  as  the  Sweet  Singer  of  Michigan.  The  last 
stanza  was  something  like  this: 

"  My  childhood  days  are  past  and  gone, 

And  it  fills  my  heart  with  pain, 
To  think  that  youth  will  nevermore 

Return  to  me  a^ain. 
And  now,  kind  friends,  what  I  have  wrote, 

I  hope  yon  will  pass  o'er 
And  not  criticise  as  some  has  hitherto  hore- 

before  done." 

Miss  Moore  also  wrote  a  volume  of  poems  which  the  farmers  of  Michigan 
are  still  using  on  their  potato  bugs.  She  Avrote  a  large  number  of  poems,  all 
more  or  less  saturated  with  grief  and  damaged  syntax.  She  is  now  said  to  be 
a  fugitive  from  justice.  We  should  learn  from  this  that  we  cannot  evade  the 
responsibility  of  our  acts,  and  those  who  write  obituary  poetry  will  one  day  be 
overtaken  by  a  bob-tail  sleuth  hound  or  a  Siberian  nemesis  with  two  rows  of 
teeth. 

Alonzo  G.,  Smithville, — Yes,  you  can  learn  three  card  monte  without  a 
master.  It  is  very  easy.  The  book  will  cost  you  twenty-five  cents  and  then 
you  can  practice  on  various  people.  The  book  is  a  very  small  item,  you  will 
find,  after  you  have  been  practicing  awhile.  Three  card  monte  and  justifiable 
homicide  go  hand  in  hand.  2.  You  can  turn  a  jack  from  the  bottom  of  the  pack 
in  the  old  sledge,  if  you  live  in  some  States,  but  west  of  the  Missouri  the  air  is 
so  light  that  men  who  have  tried  it  have  frequently  waked  up  on  the  shore  of 
eternity  with  a  half  turned  jack  in  their  hand,  and  a  hole  in  the  cerebellum  the 
size  of  an  English  walnut. 

You  can  get  "Poker  and  Three  Card  Monte  without  a  Master"  for  sixty 
cents,  with  a  coroner's  verdict  thrown  in.  If  you  contemplate  a  career  as  a 
monte  man,  you  should  wear  a  pair  of  low,  loose  shoes  that  you  can  kick  off 
easily,  unless  you  want  to  die  with  your  boots  on. 

Henry  Ubet,  Montana. — No,  you  are  mistaken  in  your  assumption  that 
Socrates  was  the  author  of  the  maxim  to  which  you  allude.  It  is  of  more 
modern  origin,  and,  in  fact,  the  sentence  of  which  you  speak,  viz:  "What  a 
combination  of  conflicting  and  paradoxical  assertions  is  life?  Of  what  use 
are  logic  and  argument  when  we  find  the  true  inwardness  of  the  bologna  sau- 
sage on  the  outside?"  were  written  by  a  philosopher  who  is  still  living.     I  am 


404  REMAKKB    BY    BILL   NYE. 

willing  to  give  Socrates  credit  for  what  he  has  said  and  done,  but  when  I  think 
of  a  sentiment  that  is  worthy  to  be  graven  on  a  monolith  and  passed  on  down 
to  prosperity,  I  do  not  want  to  have  it  attributed  to  such  men  as  Socrates. 

Leonora  Vivian  Gobb,  Oleson's  Forks,  Ariz. — Yes.  You  can  turn  the 
front  breadths,  let  out  the  tucks  in  the  side  plaiting  and  baste  on  a  new  dagoon 
where  you  caught  the  oyster  stew  in  your  laj)  at  the  party.  You  could  also 
get  trusted  for  a  new  dress,  perhaps.  But  that  is  a  matter  of  taste.  Some 
dealers  are  wearing  their  open  accounts  long  this  winter  and  some  are  not. 
Do  as  you  think  best  about  cleaning  the  dress.  Benzine  will  sometimes  eradi- 
cate an  oyster  stew  from  dress  goods.  It  will  also  eradicate  everyone  in  the 
room  at  the  same  time.  I  have  known  a  pair  of  rejuvenated  kid  gloves  to 
break  up  a  funeral  that  started  out  with  every  prospect  of  success.  Benzine 
is  an  economical  thing  to  use,  but  socially  it  is  not  up  to  the  standard.  Another 
idea  has  occurred  to  me,  however.  Why  not  riprap  the  skirt,  calk  the  selvages, 
readjust  the  box  plaits,  cat  stitch  the  crown  sheet,  file  down  the  gores,  sand- 
paper the  gaiters  and  discharge  the  dolman.  You  could  then  wear  the  gar- 
ment anywhere  in  the  evening,  and  half  the  people  wouldn't  know  anything 
had  happened  to  it. 

James,  Owatouna,  Minn. — You  can  easily  teach  yourself  to  play  on  the 
tuba.  You  know  what  Shakspeare  says:  "Tuba  or  not  tuba?  That's  the 
question." 

How  true  this  is  ?  It  touches  every  heart.  It  is  as  good  a  soliliquy  as  I 
ever  read.  P.  S. ^Please  do  not  swallow  the  tuba  while  practicing  and  choke 
yourself  to  death.  It  would  be  a  shame  for  you  to  swallow  a  nice  new  tuba 
and  cast  a  gloom  over  it  so  that  no  one  else  would  ever  want  to  play  on  it  again. 

Floeence. — You  can  stimulate  your  hair  by  using  castor  oil  three  ounces, 
brandy  one  ounce.  Put  the  oil  on  the  sewing  machine,  and  absorb  the  brandy 
between  meals.  The  brandy  Avill  no  doubt  fly  right  to  your  head  and  either 
greatly  assist  your  hair  or  it  will  reconcile  you  to  your  lot.  The  great  attrac- 
tion about  brandy  as  a  hair  tonic  is,  that  it  should  not  build  up  the  thing.  If  you 
wish,  you  may  drink  the  brandy  and  then  breathe  hard  on  the  scalp.  This 
will  be  di£Q.cult  at  first  but  after  awhile  it  will  not  seem  irksome. 


Qr(^at  Sa(;rifie(^  of  Bri(;-a-bra(:. 

^  AETIEiS  desiring  to  buy  a  job-lot  of  garden  tools,  will  do  well  to  call 
^  M  and  examine  my  stock.  These  implements  have  been  but  slightly  used, 
\Ml     and  are  comparatively  as  good  as  new.     The  lot  consists  in  part  of  the 


=^C      following : 

One  three-cornered  hoe,  Gothic  in  its  architecture  and  in  good  running  or- 
der. It  is  the  same  one  I  erroneously  hoed  up  the  carnation  with,  and  may  be 
found,  I  think,  behind  the  barn,  where  I  threw  it  when  I  discovered  my  error. 
Original  cost  of  hoe,  six  bits.  Will  be  closed  out  now  at  two  bits  to  make  room 
for  new  goods. 

Also  one  garden  rake,  almost  as  good  as  new.  One  front  tooth  needs  fill- 
ing, and  then  it  will  be  as  good  as  ever.  I  sell  this  weapon,  not  so  much  to 
get  rid  of  it,  but  because  I  do  not  want  it  any  more.  I  shall  not  garden  any  next 
spring.  I  do  not  need  to.  I  began  it  to  benefit  my  health,  and  my  health  is 
now  so  healthy  that  I  shall  not  require  the  open-air  exercise  incident  to  gar- 
dening any  more.  In  fact,  I  am  too  robust,  if  anything.  I  will,  therefore, 
acting  upon  the  advice  of  my  royal  physician,  close  this  rake  out,  since  the 
failure  of  the  Northwestern  Car  Company,  at  50  cents  on  the  dollar. 

Also  one  lawn-mower,  only  used  once.  At  that  time  I  cut  down  what  grass 
I  had  on  my  lawn,  and  three  varieties  of  high-priced  rose  bushes.  It  is  one  of 
the  most  hardy  open-air  lawn-mowers  now  made.  It  will  outlive  any  other 
lawn-mower,  and  be  firm  and  unmoved  when  all  the  shrubbery  has  gone  to  de- 
cay. You  can  also  mow  your  peony  bed  with  it,  if  you  desire.  I  tried  it. 
This  is  also  an  easy  running  lawn-mower.  I  would  recommend  it  to  any  man 
who  would  like  to  soak  his  lawn  with  perspiration.  I  mowed  my  lawn,  and 
then  pushed  a  strset-car  around  in  the  afternoon  to  relax  my  over-strained 
muscles.  I  will  sacrifice  this  lawn-mower  at  three-quarters  of  its  original  cost, 
owing  to  depression  in  the  stock  of  the  New  Jerusalem  gold  mine,  of  which  I 
am  a  large  owner  and  cashier-at-large. 

Will  also  sell  a  bright  new  spade,  only  used  two  hours  spading  for  angle- 
worms.    This  is  a  good,  early-blooming  and  very  hardy   angle-worm  spade, 

(405) 


406 


EEMARKS   BY   BILL    NYE. 


built  in  the  Doric  style  of  c1l•cllitect^^re.  Persons  desiring  a  spade  flush,  and 
lacking  one  spade  to  "  fill,"  will  do  Avell  to  give  me  a  call.  No  trouble  to  show 
the  goods. 

I  will  also  part  with  a  small  chest  of  carpenter's  tools,  only  slightly  used. 
I  had  intended  to  do  a  good  deal  of  amateur  carpenter  work  this  summer,  but, 
as  the  presidential  convention  occurs  in  June,  and  I  shall  have  to  attend  to 
that,  and  as  I  have  already  sawed  up  a  Queen  Anne  chair,  and  thoughtlessly 
sawed  into  my  leg,  I  shall  probably  sacrifice  the  tools.  These  tools  are  all 
well  made,  and  I  do  not  sell  them  to  make  money  on  them,  but  because  I  have 
no  use  for  them.  I  feel  as  though  these  tools  would  be  safer  in  the  hands  of 
a  carpenter.  I'm  no  carpenter.  My  wife  admitted  that  when  I  sawed  a  board 
across  the  piano-stool  and  sawed  the  what-do-you-call-it  all  out  of  the  cushion. 


C«>/virW5^        i" 


K.  /-       A  <; 


OPEN-AIR    EXERCISE. 


Anyone  desiring  to  monkey  with  the  carpenter's  trade,  will  do  well  to  con- 
sult my  catalogue  and  price-list.  I  will  throw  in  a  white  holly  corner-bracket, 
put  together  with  fence  nails,  and  a  rustic  settee  that  looks  like  the  Cincinnati 
riot.  Young  men  who  do  not  know  much,  and  invalids  whose  minds  have  be- 
come affected,  are  cordially  invited  to  call  and  examine  goods.  For  a  cash 
trade  I  will  also  throw  in  arnica,  court-plaster  and  salve  enough  to  run  the 
tools  two  weeks,  if  ordinary  care  be  taken. 

If  properly  approached,  I  might  also  be  wheedled  into  sacrificing  an  easy- 
running  domestic  wheelbarrow.  I  have  domesticated  it  myself  and  taught  it  a 
great  many  tricks. 


p  <^09ueF)tio9. 


HE  officers  and  members  of  the  Home  for  Disabled  Butter  and  Hoary- 
headed  Hotel  Hash  met  at  their  mosque  last  Saturday  evening,  and, 
after  the  roll  call,  reading  of  the  moments  of  the  preceding  meeting  by 
'^''  the  Secretary,  singing  of  the  ode  and  examination  of  all  present  to  as- 
certain if  they  were  in  possession  of  the  quarterly  password,  explanation  and 
signs  of  distress,  the  Most  Esteemed  Toolymuckahi,  having  reached  the  order 
of  communications  and  new  business  and  good  of  the  order,  stated  that  the 
society  was  now  ready  to  take  action,  or,  at  least,  to  discuss  the  feasibility  of 
holding  a  series  of  entertainments  at  the  rink.  These  entertainments  had  been 
proposed  as  a  means  of  propping  up  the  tottering  finances  of  the  society,  and 
j^rocuring  much-needed  funds  for  the  ptirpose  of  purchasing  new  regalia  for 
the  Most  Esteemed  Duke  of  the  Dishrag  and  the  Most  Esteemed  Hired  Man, 
each  of  whom  had  been  wearing  the  same  red  calico  collar  and  cheese-cloth 
sash  since  the  organization  of  the  society.  Funds  were  also  necessary  to  pay 
for  a  brother  who  had  Avalked  through  a  railroad  trestle  into  the  shoreless  sea 
of  eternity,  and  whose  widow  had  a  j^olicy  of  $135.25  against  this  society  on 
the  life  of  her  husband. 

Various  suggestions  were  made ;  among  them  Avas  the  idea  advanced  by  the 
Most  Highly  Esteemed  Inside  Door-Slammer  that,  as  the  society's  object  Avas, 
of  course,  to  obtain  funds,  would  it  not  be  well  to  consider,  in  the  first  place, 
whether  it  would  not  be  as  well  for  the  Most  Esteemed  Toolymuckahi  to  appoint 
six  brethren  in  good  standing  to  arm  themselves  with  great  care,  gird  up  their 
loins  and  muzzle  the  pay-car  as  it  started  out  on  its  mission.  He  simply 
offered  this  as  a  suggestion,  and,  as  it  was  a  direct  method  of  securing  the  coin 
necessary,  he  would  move  that  such  a  committee  be  ap])oint(  d  by  the  Chaii'  to 
wait  on  the  pay -car  and  draw  on  it  at  sight. 

The  Most  Esteemed  Keeper  of  the  Cork-screw  seconded  the  motion,  in 
order,  as  he  said,  to  get  it  before  the  house.  This  brought  forward  very  hot 
discussion,  pending  which  the  presiding  officer  could  see  very  plainly  that  the 
motion  was  unpopular. 

(407) 


408 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


A  visiting  brotlier  from  Yellowstone  Park  Creamery  No.  17,  stated  that  in 
their  society  ''an  entertainment  of  this  kind  had  been  given  for  the  purpose  of 
pouring  a  Hood  of  wealth  into  the  coffers  of  the  society,  and  it  had  been  fairly 
successful.  Among  the  attractions  there  had  been  nothing  of  an  immoral  or 
lawless  nature  whatever.  In  the  first  place,  a  kind  of  farewell  oyster  gorge 
had  been  given,  with  cove  oysters  as  a  basis,  and  $2  a  couple  as.an  after-thought 
A  can  of  cove  oysters  entertained  thirty  people  and  made  ^30  for  the  society. 
Besides,  it  was  found  after  the  party  had  broken  up  that,  owing  to  the  adhe- 
sive properties  of  the  oysters,  they  were  not  eaten;  but  the  juice,  as  it  were, 
had  been  scooped  up  and  the  puckered  and  corrugated  gizzards  of  the  sea  had 
been  preserved.  Acting  upon  this  suggestion,  the  society  had  an  oyster  patty 
debauch  the  following  evening  at  ^2  a  couple.  Forty  suckers  came  and  put 
their  means  into  the  common  fund.  "We  didn't  have  enough  oysters  to  quite 
go  around,  so  some  of  us  cut  a  dozen  out  of  an  old  boot  leg,  and  the  enter- 
tainment was  a  great  success.  We  also  had  other  little  devices  for  making 
money,  which  Avorked  admirably  and  yielded  much  profit  to  the  society.  Those 
present  also  said  that  they  had  never  enjoyed  themselves  so  much  before. 
Many  little  games  were  played,  which  produced  great  merriment  and  consider- 
able coin.  I  could  name  a  dozen  devices  for  your  society,  if  desired,  by  which 
money  could  be  made  for  your  treasury,  without  the  risk  or  odium  necessarily 
resulting  from  robbing  the  pay-car  or  a  bank,  and  yet  the  profit  will  be  nearly 
as  great  in  proportion  to  the  work  done." 

Here  the  gavel  of  the  Most  Esteemed  Toolymuckahi  fell  wnth  a  sickening 
thud,  and  the  visiting  brother  was  told  that  the  time  assigned  to  communica- 
tions, new  business  and  good  of  the  order  had  expired,  but  that  the  discussion 
would  be  taken  up  at  the  next  session,  in  one  week,  at  which  time  it  was  the 
purpose  of  the  chair  to  hear  and  note  all  suggestions  relative  to  an  entertain- 
ment to  be  given  at  a  future  date  by  the  society  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining 
the  evanescent  scad  and  for  the  successful  flash  of  the  reluctant  boodle. 


Qpme  Bae^. 


I^ERSONAL. — Will  tlie  young  woman  who  used  to  cook  in  our  family, 
and  w^lio  went  away  ten  pounds  of  sugar  and  five  and  a  lialf  pounds  of 
jj  l^-'/L     tea  ahead  of  the  game,  please  come  back,  and  all  will  be  forgiven. 

'^^  If  she  cannot  return,   will   she    please  write,  stating   her    present 

address,  and  also  give  her  reasons  for  shutting  up  the  cat  in  the  refrigerator 
when  she  went  away? 

If  she  will  only  return,  we  will  try  to  forget  the  past,  and  think  only  of 
the  glorious  present  and  the  bright,  bright  future. 

Come  back,  Sarah,  and  jerk  the  waffle-iron  for  us  once  more. 

Your  manners  are  peculiar,  but  we  yearn  for  your  doughnuts,  and  your 
style  of  streaked  cake  suits  us  exactly. 

You  may  keep  the  handkerchiefs  and  the  collars,  and  we  will  not  refer  to  the 
dead  past. 

We  have  arranged  it  so  that  when  you  shore  it  will  not  disturb  the  night 
police,  and  if  you  do  not  like  our  children  we  will  send  them  aAvay. 

We  realize  that  you  do  not  like  children  very  well,  and  our  children  espe- 
cially gave  you  much  pain,  because  they  were  not  so  refined  as  you  were. 

AVe  have  often  wished,  for  your  sake,  that  we  had  never  had  any  cliildren ; 
but  so  long  as  they  are  in  our  family,  the  neighbors  will  rather  expect  us  to 
take  care  of  them. 

Still,  if  you  insist  upon  it,  we  will  send  them  away.  We  don't  want  to  seem 
overbearing  with  our  servants. 

We  would  be  willing,  also,  to  give  you  more  time  for  mental  relaxation  than 
you  had  before.  The  intellectual  strain  incident  to  the  life  of  one  who  makes 
gravy  for  a  lost  and  undone  world  must  be  very  great,  and  tired  nature  must 
at  last  succumb.  We  do  not  want  you  to  succumb.  If  anyone  has  got  to 
succumb,  let  us  do  it. 

All  we  ask  is  that  you  will  let  us  know  when  you  are  going  away,  and  leave 
the  crackers  and  cheese  where  we  can  find  them. 

(409) 


410 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


It  Avas  rather  roiigli  on  us  to  have  you  go  away  when  we  had  guests  in  the 
house,  but  if  you  had  not  taken  the  key  to  the  cooking  department  we  could 
have  worried  along. 

You  ought  to  let  us  have  company  at  the  house  sometimes  if  we  will  let 
you  have  company  when  you  want  to.  Still,  you  know  best,  perhaps.  You  are 
older  than  we  are,  and  you  have  seen  more  of  the  world. 

We  miss  your  gentle  admonitions  and  your  stern  reproofs  sadly.  Come 
back  and  reprove  us  again.  Come  back  and  admonish  us  once  more,  at  so 
much  per  admonish  and  groceries. 


-^i^^; 


"WE    HOPE    YOU    WILL    DO    THE    SAME    BY    US. 

We  will  agree  to  let  you  select  the  tender  part  of  the  steak,  and  such  fruit 
as  seems  to  strike  you  favorably,  just  as  we  did  before.  We  did  not  like  it 
when  you  were  here,  but  that  is  because  we  were  young  and  did  not  know 
what  the  custom  was. 

If  a  life-time  devoted  to  your  welfare  can  obliterate  the  injustice  we  have 
done  you,  we  will  be  glad  to  yield  it  to  you. 

If  you  could  suggest  a  good  place  for  us  to  send  the  children,  where  they 


COME    BACK.  ^11^ 

would  be  well  taken  care  of,  and  where  they  would  not  interfere  with  some 
other  cook  who  is  a  friend  of  yours,  we  would  be  glad  to  have  you  write  us. 

My  wife  says  she  hopes  you  will  feel  perfectly  free  to  use  the  piano  when- 
ever you  are  lonely  or  sad,  and  when  you  or  the  bread  feel  depressed  you  will 
be  welcome  to  come  into  the  parlor  and  lean  up  against  either  one  of  us 
and  sob. 

We  all  know  that  when  you  were  with  us  before  we  were  a  little  reserved 
in  our  manner  toward  you,  but  if  you  come  back  it  will  be  different. 

AVe  will  introduce  you  to  more  of  our  friends  this  time,  and  we  hope  you 
will  do  the  same  by  us.  Young  people  are  apt  to  get  above  their  business,  and 
we  admit  that  we  were  wrong. 

Come  back  and  oversee  our  fritter  bureau  once  more. 

Take  the  portfolio  of  our  interior  department. 

Try  to  forget  our  former  coldness. 

Keturn,  oh,  wanderer,  return! 


f\  fiew  piay. 


^HE  following  letter  was  written,  recently,  in  reply  to  a  dramatist  wlio 
\!^,p    proposed  the  matter  of  writing  a  play  jointly. 


^^^  Hudson,  Wis.,  Nov.  13,  1886. 

Scott  Marble,  Esq. — Dear  Sir:  I  have  just  received  your  favor  of  yes- 
terday, in  which  you  ask  me  to  unite  with  you  in  the  construction  of  a  new 
play. 

This  idea  has  been  suggested  to  me  before,  but  not  in  such  a  way  as  to 
inaugurate  the  serious  thought  which  your  letter  has  stirred  up  in  my  seething 
mass  of  mind. 

I  would  like  very  much  to  unite  with  you  in  the  erection  of  such  a  dramatic 
structure  that  people  wo  aid  cheerfully  come  to  this  country  from  Europe, 
and  board  with  us  for  months  in  order  to  see  this  play  every  night. 

You  will  surely  agree  with  me  that  someone  ought  to  write  a  play.  Why 
it  has  not  been  done  long  ago,  I  cannot  understand.  A  well  known  comedian 
told  me  a  year  ago  that  he  hadn't  been  able  to  look  into  a  paper  for  sixteen 
months.  He  could  not  even  read  over  the  proof  of  his  own  press  notices  and 
criticisms,  to  ascertain  whether  the  printer  had  set  them  up  as  he  wrote  them 
or  not,  simply  because  it  took  all  his  sjiare  time  off  the  stage  to  examine  the 
manuscripts  of  plays  that  had  been  submitted  to  him. 

But  I  think  we  could  arrange  it  so  that  we  might  together  construct  some- 
thins  in  that  line  which  would  at  least  attract  the  attention  of  our  families. 

Would  you  mind  telling  me,  for  instance,  how  you  write  a  play  ?  You  have 
been  in  the  business  before,  and  you  could  tell  me,  of  course,  some  of  the 
salient  points  about  it.  Do  you  write  it  with  a  typewriter,  or  do  you  dictate 
your  thoughts  to  someone  who  does  not  resent  being  dictated  to  ? 

Do  you  write  a  play  and  then  dramatize  it,  or  do  you  write  the  drama 
and  then  play  on  it?  Would  it  not  be  a  very  good  idea  to  secure  a  plot  that 
would  cost  very  little,  and  then  put  the  kibosh  on  it,  or  would  you  put  up  the 

(412) 


A   NEW    PLAY.  413 

lines  first,  and  tlien  liang  the  plot  or  drama,  or  whatever  it  is,  on  the  lines  ? 
Is  it  absolutely  necessary  to  have  a  prologue  ?  If  so,  what  is  a  prologue  ?  Is 
it  like  a  catalogue? 

I  have  a  great  many  crude  ideas,  but  you  see  I  am  not  practical.  One  of 
my  crude  ideas  is  to  introduce  into  the  play  an  artist's  studio.  This  would  not 
cost  much,  for  we  could  borrow  the  studio  evenings  and  allow  the  artist  to  use  it 
daytimes.  Then  we  would  introduce  into  the  studio  scene  the  artist's  living 
model.  Everybody  would  be  horrified,  but  they  would  go.  They  would  walk 
over  each  other  to  attend  the  drama,  and  we  would  do  well.  Our  living  model 
in  the  studio  act  would  be  made  of  common  wax,  and  if  it  worked  well,  we 
would  discharge  other  members  of  the  company  and  substitute  wax.  Gradu- 
ally we  could  get  it  down  to  where  the  company  would  be  wax,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  janitor  with  a  feather  duster.     Think  that  over. 

But  seriously,  a  play,  it  seems  to  me,  should  embody  an  idea.  Am  I 
correct  in  that  theory  or  not?  It  ought  to  convey  some  great  thought,  some 
maxim  or  aphorism,  or  some  such  a  thing  as  that.  How  would  it  do  to  arrange 
a  play  with  the  idea  of  impressing  upon  the  audience  that  "the  fool  and  his 
money  are  soon  parted?"  Are  you  using  a  hero  and  a  heroine  in  your  plays 
now?  If  so,  Avould  you  mind  writing  their  lines  for  them,  wliile  I  arrange 
the  details  and  remarks  for  the  young  man  who  is  discovered  asleep  on  a  divan 
when  the  curtain  rises,  and  who  sleeps  on  through  the  play  with  his  mouth 
slightly  ajar  till  the  close^the  close  of  the  play,  not  the  close  of  his  mouth — 
when  it  is  discovered  that  he  is  dead.  He  then  plays  the  cold  remains  in  the 
closing  tableau,  and  fills  a  new-made  grave  at  $9  per  week. 

I  could  also  write  the  lines,  I  think,  for  the  young  man  who  comes  in  wearing 
a  light  summer  cane  and  a  seersucker  coat  so  tight  that  you  can  count  his  ver- 
tebrae. I  could  write  what  he  would  say  without  great  mental  strain,  I  think. 
I  must  avoid  mental  strain  or  my  intellect  might  split  down  the  back  and  I 
would  be  a  mental  wreck,  good  for  nothing  but  to  strew  the  shores  of  time 
with  myself. 

Various  other  crude  ideas  present  themselves  to  my  mind,  but  they  need  to  be 
clothed.  You  will  say  that  this  is  unnecessary.  I  know  you  will  at  once  reply 
that,  for  the  stage,  the  less  you  clothe  an  idea  the  more  popular  it  will  be,  but 
I  could  not  consent  to  have  even  a  bare  thought  of  mine  make  an  appearance 
night  after  night  before  a  cultivated  audience. 

What  do  you  think  of  introducing  a  genuine  case  of  small-pox  on  the  stage? 


414  EEMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

You  say  in  your  letter  that  what  the  American  people  clamor  for  is  something 
"catchy."     That  would  be  catchy,  and  it  would  also  introduce  itself. 

I  wish  you  would  also  tell  me  what  kind  of  diet  you  confine  yourself  to 
Avliile  writing  a  play,  and  how  you  go  to  work  to  procure  it.  Do  you  live  on  a 
mixed  diet,  or  on  your  relatives  ?  Would  you  soak  your  head  while  writing  a 
play,  or  would  you  soak  your  overcoat?  I  desire  to  know  all  these  things, 
because,  Mr.  Marble,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  as  ignorant  about  this  matter 
as  the  babe  unborn.  In  fact,  posterity  would  have  to  get  up  early  in  the 
morning  to  know  less  about  play -writing  than  I  have  succeeded  in  knowing. 

If  we  are  to  make  a  kind  of  comedy,  my  idea  would  be  to  introduce  some- 
thing facetious  in  the  middle  of  the  comedy.  No  one  will  expect  it,  you  see, 
and  it  will  tickle  the  audience  almost  to  death. 

A  friend  of  mine  suggests  that  it  would  be  a  great  hit  to  introduce,  or 
rather  to  reproduce,  the  Hell  Gate  explosion.  Many  were  not  able  to  be  there 
at  the  time,  and  would  willingly  go  a  long  distance  to  wdtness  the  reproduction. 

I  wish  that  you  would  reply  to  this  letter  at  an  early  date,  telling  me  what 
you  think  of  the  schemes  suggested.  Feel  perfectly  free  to  express  yourself 
fully.     I  am  not  too  proud  to  receive  your  suggestions. 


5t?e  5''uer  Dollar. 


rll  rT  would  seem  at  this  time,  while  so  little  is  being  said  on  the  currency 
jf-\  question,  and  especially  by  the  men  who  really  control  the  currency,  that 
yj|  a  word  from  me  would  not  be  out  of  place.  Too  much  talking  has  been 
^'^^  done  by  those  only  who  have  a  theoretical  knowledge  of  money  and  its 
eccentric  habits.  People  witli  a  mere  smattering  of  knowledge  regarding 
national  currency  have  been  loquacious,  while  those  who  have  made  the  matter 
a  study,  have  been  kept  in  the  background. 

At  this  period  in  the  history  of  our  country,  there  seems  to  be  a  general 
stringency,  and  many  are  in  the  stringency  business  who  were  never  that  Avay 
before.  Everything  seems  to  be  demonetized.  The  demonetization  of  gro- 
ceries is  doing  as  much  toward  the  general  wiggly  palsy  of  trade  as  anything 
I  know  of. 

But  I  may  say,  in  alluding  briefly  to  the  silver  dollar,  that  there  are  worse 
calamities  than  the  silver  dollar.  Other  things  may  occur  in  our  lives,  which, 
in  the  way  of  sadness  and  three-cornered  gloom,  make  the  large,  robust  dollar 
look  like  an  old-fashioned  half -dime. 

I  met  a  man  the  other  day,  who,  two  years  ago,  was  running  a  small  paper 
at  Larrabie's  Slough.  He  was  then  in  his  meridian  as  a  journalist,  and  his 
paper  was  frequently  quoted  by  such  widely-read  publications  as  the  Knight 
of  Lahor  at  Work,  a  humorous  semi-monthly  journal.  He  boldly  assailed 
the  silver  dollar,  and  with  his  trenchant  pen  he  wrote  such  burning  words  of 
denunciation  that  the  printer  had  to  set  them  on  ice  before  he  could  use  the 
copy. 

Last  week  I  met  him  on  a  Milwaukee  &  St.  Paul  train.  He  was  very  tliiu 
in  flesh,  and  the  fire  of  defiance  was  no  longer  in  his  eye.  I  asked  him  how 
he  came  on  with  the  paper  at  Larrabie's  Slough.     He  said  it  was  no  more. 

"It  started  out,"  said  he,  "in  a  fearless  way,  but  it  was  not  sustained." 

He  then  paused  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  gulped,  and  proceeded: 

(415) 


416  EEMAIIKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

"Folks  told  me  wlioii  I  began  that  I  ought  to  attack  almost  everything. 
Make  the  paper  non-partisan,  but  aggressive,  that  was  their  idea.  Sail  into 
everything,  and  the  paper  would  soon  be  a  power  in  the  land.     So  I  aggressed. 

"Friends  came  in  very  kindly  and  told  me  what  to  attack.  They  would 
neglect  their  own  business  in  order  to  tell  me  of  corruption  in  somebody  else. 
I  went  on  that  way  for  some  time  in  a  defiant  mood,  attacking  anything  that 
happened  to  suggest  itself. 

"Finally  I  thought  I  would  attack  the  silver  dollar.  I  did  so.  I  thought 
that  friends  would  come  to  me  and  praise  me  for  my  manly  words,  and  that  I 
could  afford  to  lose  the  friendship  of  the  dollar  provided  I  could  win  friends. 

"In  six  months  I  took  an  unexpired  annual  pass  over  our  Larrabie  Slough 
Narrow-Gauge,  or  Orphan  Eoad,  and  with  nothing  else  but  the  clothes  I 
wore,  I  told  the  plaintiff  how  to  jerk  the  old  Washington  press  and  went 
away.  Tlie  dear  old  AVashington  press  that  had  more  than  once  squatted  my 
burning  Avords  into  the  pure  white  page.  The  dear  old  towel  on  which  I  had 
wiped  my  soiled  hands  for  years,  until  it  had  almost  become  a  part  of  my- 
self, tne  dark  blue  Gordon  press  with  its  large  fly  wheel  and  intermittent 
chattel  mortgage,  a  press,  to  which  I  had  contributed  the  first  joint  of  my  front 
finger ;  the  editor's  chair ;  the  samples  of  large  business  cards  printed  in  green 
with  an  inflamed  red  border,  which  showed  that  we  could  do  colored  work  at 
Larrabie's  Slough  just  as  well  as  they  could  in  the  large  cities;  the  files  of 
our  paper;  the  large  wilted  potato  that  Mr.  Alonzo  G.  Pinkham  of  Erin  Cor- 
ners kindly  laid  on  our  table- — ^all,  all  had  to  go. 

"I  fled  out  into  the  great,  hollow,  mocking  world  of  people  who  had 
requested  me  to  aggress.  They  were  people  who  had  called  my  attention  to 
various  things  which  I  ought  to  attack.  I  had  attacked  those  things.  I  had 
also  attacked  the  Larrabie  Slough  Narrow-Gauge  Railroad,  but  the  manager 
did  not  see  the  attack,  and  so  my  pass  was  good. 

"What  could  I  do? 

"I  had  attacked  everything,  and  more  especially  the  silver  dollar,  and  now 
I  was  homeless.  For  fourteen  weeks  I  rode  up  the  narrow-gauge  road  one 
day  and  back  the  next,  subsisting  solely  on  the  sample  of  nice  pecan  meat  that 
the  newsboy  puts  in  each  passenger's  lap. 

"  You  look  incredulous,  I  see,  but  it  is  true. 

"I  feel  differently  toward  tlie  currency  now,  and  I  wish  I  could  undo 
what  I  have  done.     Were  I  called  up  again  to  jerk  the  xlrchimedean  lever,  I 


THE    SILVER    DOLLAIl.  417 

would  not  be  so  aggressive,  especially  r.s  regards  the  currency.  Whether  it 
is  inflated  or  not,  silver  dollars,  paper  certificates  of  deposit  or  silver  bullion,  it 
does  not  matter  to  me. 

"I  yearn  for  two  or  three  adult  doughnuts  and  one  of  those  thick,  dappled 
slabs  of  gingerbread,  or  slat  of  pie  with  gooseberries  in  it.  I  presume  that  I 
could  write  a  scathing  editorial  on  the  abuses  of  our  currency  yet,  but  I  am 
not  so  much  in  the  scathe  business  as  I  used  to  be. 

"I  wish  you  would  state,  if  you  will,  through  some  great  metropolitan  jour- 
nal, that  my  views  in  relation  to  the  silver  coinage  and  the  currency  question 
have  undergone  a  radical  change,  and  that  any  plan  whatever,  by  which  to 
make  the  American  dollar  less  skittish,  will  meet  with  my  hearty  approval. 

"If  I  have  done  anything  at  all  through  my  paper  to  injure  or  repress  the 
flow  of  our  currency,  and  I  fear  I  have,  I  now  take  this  occasion  to  cheerfully 
regret  it." 

He  then  wrung  my  hand  and  passed  from  my  sight. 


polygamy  as  a  i^<^Ii(^ious  Duty. 

URING  the  past  few  years  in  the  history  of  our  republic,  we  have  had 

leprosy,  yellow  fever  and  the  dnde,  and  it  seemed  as  though  each  one 

iS^^    would  wreck  the  whole  national  fabric  at  one  time.      National  and  inter- 

'^^       national  troubles  of  one  kind   and   another   have  gradually  risen,  been 

met  and  mastered,  but  the  great  national  abscess  known  as  the  Church  of 

Jesus   Christ  of  Latter  Day   Saints  still  obstinately  refuses  to    come   to    a 

head. 

I  may  be  a  radical  monogamist  and  a  rash  enthusiast  upon  this  matter,  but 
I  still  adhere  to  my  original  motto,  one  country,  one  flag  and  one  wife  at  a 
time.  Matrimony  is  a  good  thing,  but  it  can  be  overdone.  We  can  excuse  the 
man  Avho  becomes  a  collection  of  rare  coins,  stamps,  or  autographs,  but  he 
who  wears  out  his  young  life  making  a  collection  of  wives,  should  be  looked 
upon  with  suspicion. 

After  all,  however,  this  matter  has  always  been,  and  still  is,  treated  with 
too  much  levity.  It  seems  funny  to  us,  at  a  distance  of  1,600  miles,  that  a 
thick-necked  patriarch  in  the  valley  of  the  Jordan  should  be  sealed  to  thirteen 
or  fourteen  low-browed,  half  human  females,  and  that  the  whole  mass  of  hu- 
manity should  live  and  multiply  under  one  roof. 

Those  who  see  the  wealthy  polygamists  of  Salt  Lake  City,  do  not  know 
much  of  the  horrors  of  trying  to  make  polygamy  and  poverty  harmonize  in  the 
rural  districts.  In  the  former  case,  each  wife  has  a  separate  residence  or 
suite  of  rooms,  perhaps;  but  in  the  latter  is  the  aggregation  of  vice  and  deprav- 
ity, doubly  horrible  because,  instead  of  the  secluded  character  which  wicked- 
ness generally  assumes,  here  it  is  the  common  heritage  of  the  young  and  at 
once  fails  to  shock  or  horrify. 

Under  the  All -seeing  eye,  and  the  Bee  Hive,  and  the  motto,  "Holiness  to 
the  Lord,"  with  a  bogus  Bible  and  a  red-nosed  prophet,  who  couldn't  earn  $13. 
per  month  pounding  sand,  this  so  called  church,  hanging  on  to  the  horns  of 


(418) 


POLYGAMY   AS   A   RELIGIOUS   DUTY. 


419 


the  altar,  as  it  were,  defies  the  statutes,  and  while  in  open  rebellion  against  the 
laws  of  God  and  man,  refers  to  the  constitution  of  the  United  States  as  pro- 
tecting: it  in  its  "religious  belief." 

In  a  poem,  the  patient  Mormon  in  the  picturesque  valley  of  the  Great  Salt 
Lake,  where  he  has  "made  the  desert  blossom  as  the  rose,"  looks  well.  With 
the  wonderful  music  of  the  great  organ  at  the  tabernacle  sounding  in  your 
ears,  and  the  lofty  temple  near  by  towering  to  the  sky,  you  say  to  yourself, 
there  is,  after  all,  something  solemn  and  impressive  in  all  this ;  but  when  a 
greasy  apostle  in  an  alapaca  duster,  takes  his  place  behind  the  elevated  desk, 
and  with  bad  grammar  and  slangy  sentences,  asks  God  in  a  businesslike  way 
to  bless  this  buzzing  mass  of  unclean,  low-browed,  barbarous  scum  of  all  for- 
eign countries,  and  the  white  trash  and  criminals  of  our  oAvn,  you  find  no  rev- 
erence, and  no  religious  awe. 

The  same  mercenary,  heartless  lunacy  that  runs  through  the  sickly  plagi- 
arism of  the  Book  of  Mormon,  pervades  all  this,  and  instead  of  the  odor  of 
sanctity  you  notice  the  flavor  of  bilge  water, 
and  the  emigrant's  own  hailing  sign,  the  all- 
pervading  fragrance  of  the  steerage. 

Education  is  the  foe  of  polygamy,  and 
many  of  the  young  who  have  had  the  means 
by  which  to  complete  their  education  in  the 
East,  are  apostate,  at  least  so  far  as  polygamy 
is  concerned.  Still,  to  the  great  mass  of  the 
poor  and  illiterate  of  Mormondom  this  is  no 
benefit.  The  rich  of  the  Mormon  Church  are 
rich  because  their  influence  with  this  great 
fraud  has  made  them  so ;  and  it  would,  as  a 
matter  of  business,  injure  their  prospects  to 
come  out  and  bolt  the  nomination. 

Utah,  OA^en  with  the  Edmunds  bill,  is 
hopelessly  Mormon ;  all  adjoining  States  and 
Territories  are  already  invaded  by  them, 
and  the  delegate  in  Congress  from  Wyoming  is  elected  by  the  Mormon  vote. 

I  believe  that  I  am  moderately  liberal  and  free  upon  all  religious  matters, 
but  when  a  man's  confession  of  faith  involves  from  three  to  tAventy-seven  old 
corsets  in  the  back  yard  every  spring,  and  a  clothes  line  every  Monday  morn- 


THE    FAMILY   WASH. 


420  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

mg  tliat  looks  like  a  bridal  trossoau  emporium  struck  by  a  cyclone,  I  must 
admit  that  I  am  a  little  bit  inclined  to  be  sectarian  in  my  A'iews. 

It's  bad  enough  to  be  slapped  across  the  features  by  one  pair  of  long  wet 
hose  on  your  way  to  the  barn,  but  to  have  a  whole  bankrupt  stock  of  cold,  wet 
garments  every  week  fold  their  damp  arms  around  your  neck,  as  you  dodge 
under  the  clothes  line  to  drive  the  cow  out  of  the  yard,  is  wrong. 

It  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,  of  course,  but  why  should  he  yearn  to 
fold  a  young  ladies'  seminary  to  his  bosom  ?  Why  should  this  morbid  senti- 
ment prompt  him  to  marry  a  Female  Suffrage  Mass  Meeting?  I  do  not  wish 
to  be  considered  an  extremist  in  religious  matters,  but  the  doctrine  that  requires 
me  to  be  sealed  to  a  whole  emigrant  train,  seems  unnatural  and  inconsistent. 


Jl^e  )Nfeu;spaper. 


AN  ADDRESS   DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  WISCONSIN    STATE   PRESS    ASSOCIATION,  AT  WHITE- 
WATER, WIS.,  AUGUST  11,  1885. 

^'"^  "Wv^'  I^I*^ESIDENT  AND  Gentlemen  of  the  Press  of  Wisconsin: 

>,  /  \  /  1;'  I  f^™   sure  that  when  you  so  kindly  invited  me  to  address  you 

J  lt'i2JL\\  \[    to-day,  you  did  not  anticipate  a  lavish  display  of  genius  and  ges- 

^<rLy^jrs--     i-^^Yes.     I  accepted  the  invitation  because  it  afforded  me  an  o})portu- 

nity  to  meet  you  and  to  get  acquainted  with  you,  and  tell  you  personally  that 

for  years  I  have  been  a  constant  reader  of  your  valuable  paper  and  I  like  it. 

You  are  running  it  just  as  I  like  to  see  a  newspaper  run. 

I  need  not  elaborate  upon  the  wonderful  growth  of  the  press  in  our  country, 
or  refer  to  the  great  power  which  journalism  wields  in  the  developinent  of  the  new 
world.  I  need  not  ladle  out  statistics  to  show  you  how  the  newspaper  has 
encroached  upon  the  field  of  oratory  and  how  the  pale  and  silent  man,  while 
others  sleep,  compiles  the  universal  history  of  a  day  and  tells  his  mighty 
audience  what  he  thinks  about  it  before  he  goes  to  bed. 

Of  course,  this  is  but  the  opinion  of  one  man,  but  who  has  a  better  oppor- 
tunity to  judge  than  he  who  sits  Avith  his  finger  on  the  electric  pulse  of  the 
world,  judging  the  actions  of  humanity  at  so  much  per  judge,  invariably  in 
advance  ? 

I  need  not  tell  you  all  this,  for  you  certainly  know  it  if  you  read' your 
paper,  and  I  hope  you  do.  A  man  ought  to  read  his  own  paper,  even  if  he 
cannot  endorse  all  its  sentiments. 

So  necessary  has  the  profession  of  journalism  become  to  the  progress  and 
education  of  our  country,  that  the  matter  of  establishing  schools  where  young 
men  may  be  fitted  for  an  active  newspaper  life,  has  attracted  much  attention 
and  discussion.  It  has  been  demonstrated  that  our  colleges  do  not  fit  a  young 
man  to  walk  at  once  into  the  active  management  of  a  paper.  He  should  at  least 
knoTT  the  difference  between  a  vile  contemporary  and  a  Gothic  scoop. 

(421) 


422  EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

It  is  difficult  to  map  out  a  proper  course  for  the  student  in  a  school  of 
journalism,  there  are  so  many  things  connected  with  the  profession  which  the 
editor  and  his  staff  should  know  and  know  hard.  The  newspaper  of  to-day  is 
a  library.  It  is  an  encyclopaedia,  a  poem,  a  biography,  a  history,  a  prophecy, 
a  directory,  a  time-table,  a  romance,  a  cook  book,  a  guide,  a  horoscope,  an  art 
critic,  a  political  resume,  a  mult  urn  inpdrvo.  It  is  a  sermon,  a  song,  a  circus, 
an  obituary,  a  picnic,  a  shipwreck,  a  symphony  in  solid  brevier,  a  medley  of 
life  and  death,  a  grand  aggregation  of  man's  glory  and  his  shame.  It  is,  in 
short,  a  bird's-eye-view  of  all  the  magnanimity  and  meanness,  the  joys  and 
griefs,  the  births  and  deaths,  the  pride  and  poverty  of  the  world,  and  all  for 
two  cents — sometimes. 

I  could  tell  you  some  more  things  that  the  newspaper  of  to-day  is,  if  you 
had  time  to  stay  here  and  your  business  would  not  suffer  in  your  absence. 
Among  others  it  is  a  long  felt  want,  a  nine-column  paper  in  a  five-column 
town,  a  lying  sheet,  a  feeble  effort,  a  financial  problem,  a  tottering  wreck,  a 
political  tool  and  a  sheriff's  sale. 

If  I  were  to  suggest  a  curriculum  for  the  young  man  who  wished  to  take  a 
regular  course  in  a  school  of  journalism,  preferring  that  to  the  actual  experi- 
ence, I  would  say  to  him,  devote  the  first  two  years  to  meditation  and  prayer. 
This  will  prepare  the  young  editor  for  the  surprise  and  consequent  temptation 
to  profanity  which  in  a  few  years  he  may  experience  when  he  finds  that 
the  name  of  the  Deity  in  his  double-leaded  editorial  is  spelled  with  a  little 
"g,"  and  the  peroration  of  the  article  is  locked  up  between  a  death  notice  and 
the  advertisement  of  a  patent  moustache  coaxer,  which  is  to  follow  pure  read- 
ing matter  every  day  in  the  week  and  occupy  the  top  of  column  on  Sunday  tf. 

Tlief  ensuing  five  years  should  be  devoted  to  the  peculiar  orthography  of 
the  English  language. 

Then  put  in  three  years  with  the  dumb  bells,  sand  bags,  slung  shots  and 
tomahawk.  In  my  own  journalistic  experience  I  have  found  more  cause  for 
regret  over  my  neglect  of  this  branch  than  anything  else.  I  usually  keep  on 
my  desk  during  a  heated  campaign,  a  large  paper  weight,  weighing  three  or 
four  pounds,  and  in  several  instances  I  have  found  that  I  could  feed  that  to  a 
constant  reader  of  my  valuable  paper  instead  of  a  retraction. 

Fewer  people  lick  the  editor  though,  now,  than  did  so  in  years  gone  by. 
Many  people — in  the  last  two  years — have  gone  across  the  street  to  lick  the 
editor  and  never  returned.       They  intended  to  come  right  back  in  a  few  mo- 


THE   NEWSPAPER.  423 

ments,  but  they  are  now  in  a  land  where  a  change  of  heart  and  a  pahn  leaf 
fan  is  all  they  need. 

Fewer  people  are  robbing  the  editor  now-a-days,  too,  I  notice  with  much 
pleasure.  Only  a  short  time  ago  I  noticed  that  a  burglar  succeeded  in  break- 
ing into  the  residence  of  a  Dakota  journalist,  and  ^fter  a  long,  hard  strug- 
gle the  editor  succeeded  in  robbing  him. 

After  the  primary  course,  mapped  out  already,  an  intermediate  course  of 
ten  years  should  be  given  to  learning  the  typographical  art,  so  that  when  vis- 
itors come  in  and  ask  the  editor  all  about  the  office,  he  can  tell  them  of 
the  mysteries  of  making  a  paper,  and  how  delinquent  subscribers  have  fre- 
quently been  killed  by  a  well-directed  blow  with  a  printer's  to  web 

Five  years  should  be  devoted  to  a  study  of  the  art  of  proof-reading.  In  that 
length  of  time  the  young  journalist  can  perfect  himself  to  such  a  degree  that 
it  will  take  another  five  years  for  the  printer  to  understand  his  corrections  and 
marginal  notes. 

Fifteen  years  should  then  be  devoted  to  the  study  of  American  politics,  es- 
pecially civil  service  reform,  looking  at  it  from  a  non-partisan  standpoint. 
If  possible,  the  last  five  years  should  be  spent  abroad.  London  is  the  place  to 
go  if  you  wish  to  get  a  clear,  concise  view  of  American  politics,  and  Chicago 
or  Milwaukee  would  be  a  good  place  for  the  young  English  journalist  to  go 
and  study  the  political  outlook  of  England. 

The  student  should  then  take  a  medical  and  surgical  course,  so  that  he 
may  be  able  to  attend  to  contusions,  fractures  and  so  forth,  which  may  oc- 
cur to  himself  or  to  the  party  who  may  come  to  his  office  for  a  retraction  and 
by  mistake  get  his  spinal  column  double-leaded. 

Ten  years  should  then  be  given  to  the  study  of  law.  No  thorough,  metro- 
politan editor  wants  to  enter  upon  the  duties  of  his  profession  without  know- 
ing the  difference  between  a  writ  of  mandamus  and  other  styles  of  profanit}^ 
He  should  thoroughly  understand  the  entire  system  of  American  jurisprudence, 
so  that  in  case  a  certiorari  should  break  out  in  his  neighborhood  he  would 
know  just  what  to  do  for  it. 

The  student  will,  by  this  time,  begin  to  see  what  is  required  of  him  and  en- 
ter with  great  zeal  upon  the  further  study  of  his  profession. 

He  will  now  enter  upon  a  theological  course  of  ten  years  and  fit  himself 
thoroughly  to  speak  intelligently  of  the  various  creeds  and  religions  of  the 
world.     Ignorance  on  the  part  of   an  editor  is  almost  a  crime,  and  when  he 


424  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

closes  a  powerful  editorial  with  the  familiar  quotation,  "It  is  the  early  bird 
that  catches  the  worm,"  and  attributes  it  to  St.  Paul  instead  of  Deuteronomy^ 
it  makes  me  blush  for  the  profession. 

The  last  ten  years  may  be  profitably  devoted  to  the  acquisition  of  a  prac- 
tical knowledge  of  cutting  cordwood,  baking  beans,  making  shirts,  lecturing, 
turning  double  handsprings,  being  shot  out  of  a  cata})ult  at  a  circus,  learning 
how  to  make  a  good  adhesive  paste  that  will  not  sour  in  hot  weather,  grinding 
scissors,  punctuating,  capitalization,  condemnation,  syntax,  plain  sewing,  music 
and  dancing,  sculping,  etiquette,  prosody,  how  to  win  the  affections  of  the  op- 
posite sex  and  evade  a  malignant  case  of  breach  of  promise,  the  ten  command- 
ments, every  man  his  own  tooter  on  the  flute,  croquet,  rules  of  the  prize  ring, 
rhetoric,  parlor  magic,  calisthenics,  penmanship,  how  to  run  a  jack  from  the 
bottom  of  the  pack  without  getting  shot,  civil  engineering,  decorative  art,  kal- 
somining,  bicycling,  base  ball,  hydraulics,  botany,  poker,  international  law, 
high-low- jack,  drawing  and  painting,  faro,  vocal  music,  driving,  break- 
ing team,  fifteen  ball  pool,  how  to  remove  grease  spots  from  last  year's 
pantaloons,  horsemanship,  coupling  freight  cars,  riding  on  a  rail,  riding  on  a 
pass,  feeding  threshing  machines,  how  to  wean  a  calf  from  the  parent  stem, 
teaching  school,  bull -whacking,  plastering,  waltzing,  vaccination,  autopsy,  how 
to  win  the  affections  of  your  wife's  mother,  every, man  his  own  washerwoman, 
or  how  to  wash  underclothes  so  they  will  not  shrink,  etc.,  etc. 

But  time  forbids  anything  like  a  thorough  list  of  what  a  young  man  should 
study  in  order  to  fully  understand  all  that  he  may  be  called  upon  to  express 
an  opinion  about  in  his  actual  experience  as  a  journalist.  Tliere  are  a  thou- 
sand little  matters  which  every  editor  should  know ;  such,  for  instance,  as  the 
construction  of  roller  composition.  Many  newspaper  men  can  write  a  good 
editorial  on  Asiatic  cholera,  but  their  roller  composition  is  not  fit  to 
eat. 

With  the  course  of  study  that  I  have  mapped  out,  the  young  student  would 
emerge  from  the  college  of  journalism  at  the  age  of  ',)5  or  9G,  ready  to  take  off 
his  coat  and  write  an  article  on  almost  any  subject.  He  w^ould  be  a  little  gid- 
dy at  first,  and  the  office  boy  Avould  have  to  see  that  he  went  to  bed  at  a  proper 
time  each  night,  but  aside  from  that,  he  would  be  a  good  man  to  feed  a  waste 
paper  basket. 

Actual  experience  is  the  best  teacher  in  this  peculiarly  trying  ]^rofession. 
I  hope  some  day  to  attend  a  press  convention  where  the  order  of  exercise  will 


THE   NEWSPAPER.  425 

consist  of  five-minute  experiences  from  each  one  present.  It  would  be  wortli 
listening  to. 

My  own  experience  was  a  little  peculiar.  It  was  my  intention  at  first  to 
practice  law,  when  I  went  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  although  I  had  been 
warned  by  the  authorities  not  to  do  so.  Still,  I  did  practice  in  a  surreptitious 
kind  of  a  way,  and  might  have  been  practicing  yet  if  my  client  hadn't  died. 
When  you  have  become  attached  to  a  client  and  respect  and  like  him,  and  tlien 
when,  without  warning,  like  a  bolt  of  electricity  from  a  clear  sky,  he  suddenly 
dies  and  takes  the  bread  right  out  of  your  mouth,  it  is  rough. 

Then  I  tried  the  practice  of  criminal  law,  but  my  client  got  into  the  pen- 
itentiary, where  he  was  no  use  to  me  financially  or  politically.  Final]}',  when 
the  judge  was  in  a  hurry,  he  would  appoint  me  to  defend  the  pau[)er  criminals. 
They  all  went  to  the  penitentiary,  until  people  got  to  criticising  the  judge,  and 
finally  they  told  him  that  it  was  a  shame  to  appoint  me  to  defend  an  innocent 
man. 

My  first  experience  in  journalism  was  in  a  Western  town,  in  which  I  was  a 
total  stranger.  I  went  there  with  thirty-five  cents,  but  I  had  it  concealed  in 
the  lining  of  my  clothes  so  that  no  one  would  have  suspected  it  if  they  had 
met  me.  I  had  no  friends,  and  I  noticed  that  when  I  got  off  the  train  the 
band  was  not  there  to  meet  me,  I  entered  the  town  just  as  any  other  Ameri- 
can citizen  would.  I  had  not  fully  decided  whether  to  become  a  stage  robber 
or  a  lecturer  on  phrenology.  At  that  time  I  got  a  chance  to  work  on  a  morn- 
ing paper.  It  used  to  go  to  press  before  dark,  so  I  always  had  my  evenings 
to  myself  and  I  liked  that  part  of  it  first-rate.  I  worked  on  that  paper  a  year 
and  might  have  continued  if  the  proprietors  had  not  changed  it  to  an  evening 
paper. 

Then  a  company  incorporated  itself  and  started  a  paper,  of  which  I  took 
charge.  The  paper  was  published  in  the  loft  of  a  livery  stable.  That  is  the  rea- 
son they  called  it  a  stock  company.  You  could  come  up  the  stairs  into  the 
office  or  you  could  twist  the  tail  of  the  iron -gray  mule  and  take  the  elevator. 

It  wasn't  much  of  a  paper,  but  it  cost  ^16,000  a  year  to  run  it,  and  it  came 
out  six  days  in  the  week,  no  matter  what  the  weather  was.  We  took  the  As- 
sociated Press  news  by  telegraph  part  of  the  time,  and  part  of  the  time  wo 
relied  on  the  Cheyenne  morning  papers,  which  we  got  of  the  conductor  on 
the  early  morning  freight.  We  got  a  great  many  special  telegrams  from 
Washington  in  that  way,  and  when  the  freight  train  got  in  late,  I  had  to  guess 


420  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

at  what  congress  was  doing  and  fix  up  a  column  of  telegraph  the  best  I  could. 
There  was  a  rival  evening  paper  there,  and  sometimes  it  would  send  a  smart 
boy  down  to  the  train  and  get  hold  of  our  special  telegrams,  and  sometimes  the 
conductor  would  go  away  on  a  picnic  and  take  our  Cheyenne  paper  with  him. 

All  these  things  are  annoying  to  a  man  who  is  trying  to  supply  a  long  felt 
want.  There  was  one  conductor,  in  particular,  who  used  to  go  away  into  the 
foot-hills  shooting  sage  hens  and  take  our  cablegrams  with  him.  This  threw 
too  much  strain  on  me.  I  could  guess  at  what  congress  was  doing  and  make 
up  a  pretty  readable  report,  but  foreign  powers  and  reichstags  and  crowned 
heads  and  dynasties  always  mixed  me  up.  You  can  look  over  what  congress 
did  last  year  and  give  a  pretty  good  guess  at  what  it  will  do  this  year,  but  you 
can't  rely  on  a  dynasty  or  an  effete  monarchy  in  a  bad  state  of  preservation. 
It  may  go  into  executive  session  or  it  may  go  into  bankruptcy. 

Still,  at  one  time  we  used  to  have  considerable  local  news  to  fill  up  with. 
The  north  and  middle  parks  for  a  while  used  to  help  us  out  when  the  mining 
camps  were  new.  Those  were  the  days  when  it  was  considered  perfectly  proper 
to  kill  off  the  board  of  supervisors  if  their  action  w^as  distasteful.  At  that 
time  a  new  camp  generally  located  a  cemetery  and  wrote  an  obituary ;  then 
the  boys  would  start  out  to  find  a  man  whose  name  wouhl  rhyme  with  the  rest 
of  the  verse.  Those  were  the  days  when  the  cemeteries  of  Colorado  were  still 
in  their  infancy  and  the  song  of  the  six-shooter  was  heard  in  the  land. 

Sometimes  the  Indians  would  send  us  in  an  item.  It  was  generally  in  the 
obituary  line.  With  the  Sioux  on  the  north  and  the  peaceful  Utes  on  the 
south,  we  were  pretty  sure  of  some  kind  of  news  during  the  summer.  The 
parks  used  to  be  occupied  by  white  men  winters  and  Indians  summers.  Sum- 
mer was  really  the  pleasantest  time  to  go  into  the  parks,  but  the  Indians  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  going  there  at  that  season,  and  they  were  so  clannish 
that  the  white  men  couldn't  have  much  fun  with  them,  so  they  decided  they 
Avould  not  go  there  in  the  summer.  Several  of  our  best  subscril^ers  were 
killed  by  the  peacefvil  Utes. 

There  were  two  daily  and  three  weekly  papers  published  in  Laramie  City 
at  that  time.  There  were  between  two  and  three  thousand  people  and  our 
local  circulation  ran  from  150  to  250,  counting  dead-heads.  In  our  pros- 
pectus we  stated  that  we  would  spare  no  expense  whatever  in  ransacking  the 
universe  for  fresh  news,  but  there  were  times  when  it  was  all  we  could  do  to 
get  our  paper  out  on  time.      Out  of  the  express  office,  I  mean. 


THE   NEWSPAPER.  427 

One  of  the  rival  editors  used  to  write  his  editorials  for  the  paper  in  the 
evening,  jerk  the  Washington  hand-press  to  work  them  off,  go  home  and 
wrestle  with  juvenile  colic  in  his  family  until  daylight  and  then  deliver  his 
papers  on  the  street.  It  is  not  surprising  that  the  great  mental  strain  incident 
to  this  life  made  an  old  man  of  him,  and  gave  a  tinge  of  extreme  sadness  to 
the  funny  column  of  his  paper. 

In  an  unguarded  moment,  this  man  wrote  an  editorial  once  that  got  all  his 
subscribers  mad  at  him,  and  the  same  afternoon  he  came  around  and  wanted 
to  sell  his  paper  to  us  for  $10,000.  I  told  him  that  the  whole  outfit  wasn't 
worth  ten  thousand  cents. 

"I  know  that,"  said  he,  "but  it  is  not  the  material  that  I  am  talking  about. 
It  is  the  good  will  of  the  paper." 

We  had  a  rising  young  horsethief  in  Wyoming  in  those  days,  who  got  into 
jail  by  some  freak  of  justice,  and  it  was  so  odd  for  a  horsethief  to  get  into  jail 
that  I  alluded  to  it  editorially.  This  horsethief  had  distinguished  himself 
from  the  common,  vulgar  horsethieves  of  his  time,  by  wearing  a  large  mouth — 
a  kind  of  full-dress,  eight-day  mouth.  He  rarely  smiled,  but  when  he  did,  he 
had  to  hold  the  top  of  his  head  on  with  both  hands.  I  remember  that  I  spoke 
of  this  in  the  paper,  forgetting  that  he  might  criticise  me  when  he  got  ont  of 
jail.  When  he  did  get  out  again,  he  stated  that  he  would  shoot  me  on  sight, 
but  friends  advised  me  not  to  have  his  blood  on  my  hands,  and  I  took  their 
advice,  so  I  haven't  got  a  particle  of  his  blood  on  either  of  my  hands. 

For  two  or  three  months  I  didn't  know  but  he  would  drop  into  the  office 
any  minute  and  criticise  me,  but  one  day  a  friend  told  me  that  he  had  been 
hung  in  Montana.  Then  I  began  to  mingle  in  society  again,  and  didn't  have 
to  get  in  my  coal  with  a  double  barrel  shot  gun  any  more. 

After  that  I  was  always  conservative  in  relation  to  horsethieves  until  we 
got  the  report  of  the  vigilance  committee. 


ERY  soon  now  I  sliall  be  strong  enough  on  ray  cyclone  leg  to  resume 
'■  my  lessons  in  waltzing.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  I  look  £t)rward  with 
great  pleasure  to  that  moment.  Nature  intended  that  I  should  glide 
in  the  mazy.  Tall,  lithe,  bald-headed,  genial,  limber  in  the  extreme, 
suave,  soulful,  frolicsome  at  times,  yet  dignified  and  reserved  toward  stran- 
gers, light  on  the  foot — on  my  own  foot,  I  mean — gentle  as  a  woman  at  times, 
yet  irresistible  as  a  tornado  when  insulted  by  a  smaller,  I  am  peculiarly  fitted 
to  shine  in  society.  Those  who  have  observed  my  polished  brow,  when  under 
a  strong  electric  light,  say  they  never  saw  a  man  shine  so  in  society  as  I  do. 

My  wife  tauglit  me  how  to  waltz.  She  would  teach  me  on  Saturdays  and 
repair  her  skirts  during  the  following  week.  I  told  her  once  that  I  thought  I 
was  too  brainy  to  dance.  She  said  she  hadn't  noticed  that,  but  she  thought  I 
seemed  to  run  too  much  to  legs.  My  wife  is  not  timid  about  telling  me  any- 
thing that  she  thinks  will  be  for  my  good.  When  I  make  a  mistake  she  is 
perfectly  frank  with  me,  and  comes  right  to  me  and  tells  me  about  it,  so  that  I 
won't  do  so  again. 

I  had  just  learned  how  to  reel  around  a  ballroom  to  a  little  waltz  music, 
when  I  was  blown  across  the  State  of  Mississippi  in  September  last  by  a  high 
wind,  and  broke  one  of  my  legs  which  I  use  in  waltzing.  When  this  accident 
occurred  I  had  just  got  where  I  felt  at  liberty  to  choose  a  glorious  being  with 
starry  eyes  and  fluffy  hair,  and  magnificently  modeled  form,  to  steer  me  around 
the  rink  to  the  dreamy  music  of  Strauss.  One  young  lady,  with  whom  I  had 
waltzed  a  good  deal,  when  slie  heard  that  my  leg  was  broken,  began  to  attend 
every  dancing  party  she  could  hear  of,  although  she  had  declined  a  great  many 
previous  to  that.  I  asked  her  how  she  could  be  so  giddy  and  so  gay  when  I 
was  suffering.  She  said  she  was  doing  it  to  di'own  her  sorrow,  but  her  little 
brother  told  me  on  the  quiet  that  she  was  dancing  while  I  was  sick  because 
she  felt  perfectly  safe.  A  friend  of  mine  says  I  have  a  pronounced  and  dis- 
tinctly original  mariner  of  waltzing,  and  that  he  never  saw  anybody,  with  one 
exception,  wh.)  waltzed  as  I  did,  and  that  was  Jumbo.      He  claimed  that  eithei 

(428) 


WKESTLING    WITH    THE    MAZY. 


429 


one  of  us  would  be  a  good  dancer  if  he  could  have  the  whole  ring  to  himself. 
He  said  that  he  would  like  to  see  Jumbo  and  me  waltz  together  if  he  were  not 
afraid  that  I  would  step  on  Jumbo  and  liurt  him.  You  can  see  what  a  feeling 
of  jealous  hatred  it  arouses  in  some  small  minds  when  a  man  gets  so  that  he 
can  mingle  in  good  society  and  enjoy  himself. 


WALTZING   WITH   JUMBO. 


I  could  waltz  more  easily  if  the  rules  did  not  require  such  a  constant 
change  of  position.  I  am  sedentary  in  my  nature,  slow  to  move  about,  so  that 
it  takes  a  lady  of  great  strength  of  purpose  to  pull  me  around  on  time. 


/^Qeedotes  of  tt^e  Sta^e. 

§3^  EARS  ago,  before  Laramie  City  got  a  handsome  opera  house,  everything 
^., ,  /^'  in  the  theatrical  and  musical  line  of  a  high  order  was  put  on  the  stage 
^jly  of  Blackburn's  Hall.  Other  light  dramas  on  the  stage,  and  thrilling 
"^"^  murders  in  the  audience,  used  to  occur  at  Alexander's  Theater,  on 
Front  street.  Here  you  could  get  a  glass  of  Laramie  beer,  made  of  glucose, 
alkali  water,  plug  tobacco,  and  Paris  green,  by  paying  two  bits  at  the  bar,  and, 
as  a  prize,  you  drew  a  ticket  to  the  olio,  specialties,  and  low  gags  of  the  stage. 
The  idea  of  inebriating  a  man  at  the  box  office,  so  that  he  will  endure  such  a 
sham,  is  certainly  worthy  of  serious  consideration.  I  have  seen  shows  at 
Alexander's,  and  also  at  McDaniel's,  in  Cheyenne,  however,  where  the  bar 
should  have  provided  an  ounce  of  chloroform  with  each  ticket  in  order  to  allay 
the  suffering. 

Here  you  could  sit  down  in  the  orchestra  and  take  the  chances  of  getting 
hit  when  the  audience  began  to  shoot  at  the  pianist,  or  you  could  go  up  into 
the  boxes  and  have  a  quiet  little  conversation  with  the  timid  beer-jerkers.  The 
beer-jerker  was  never  too  proud  to  speak  to  the  most  humble,  and  if  she  could 
sell  a  grub-staker  for  $5  a  bottle  of  real  Piper  Heidsick,  made  in  Cheyenne  and 
warranted  to  remove  the  gastric  coat,  pants  and  vest  from  a  man's  stomach  in 
two  minutes,  she  felt  pleased  and  proud. 

A  room-mate  of  mine,  whose  name  I  will  not  give,  simply  because  he  was 
and  still  is  the  best  fellow  in  the  United  States,  came  home  from  the  "theater" 
one  night  with  his  hair  parted  in  the  middle.  He  didn't  wear  it  that  way  gen- 
erally, so  it  occasioned  talk  in  social  circles.  He  still  has  a  natural  parting  of 
the  hair  about  five  inches  long,  that  he  acquired  that  night.  He  said  it  was 
accidental  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  but  unless  the  management  could  keep 
people  from  shooting  the  holders  of  reserved  seats  between  the  acts  or  any 
other  vital  spot,  he  would  withdraw  his  patronage.  And  he  was  right  about  it. 
I  think  that  any  court  in  the  land  would  protect  a  man  who  had  purchased  a 
seat  in  good  faith,  and  with  his  hat  on  and  both  feet  on  the  back  of  the  seat 

(430) 


ANECDOTES  OF  THE  STAGE.  431 

in  front  of  him,  sits  quietly  in  said  scat,  smoking  a  Colorado  Maduro  cigar 
and  watching  the  play. 

Several  such  accidents  occurred  at  the  said  theater.  Among  them  was  a 
little  tableau  in  which  Joe  Walker  and  Centennial  Bob  took  the  leading  parts. 
Bob  went  to  the  penitentiary,  and  Joe  went  to  his  reward  with  one  of  his  lungs 
in  his  coat  pocket.  There  was  a  little  difference  betAveen  them  as  to  the  regu- 
larity of  a- "draw"  and  "  show  down,"  so  Bob  went  home  from  the  theater  and 
loaded  a  double-barrel  shot-gun  with  a  lot  of  scrap-iron,  and,  after  he  had  in- 
troduced the  collection  into  Joe's  front  breadth,  the  latter's  system  was  so 
lacerated  that  it  wouldn't  retain  ground  feed. 

There  were  other  little  incidents  like  that  which  occurred  in  and  around  the 
old  theater,  some  growing  out  of  the  lost  love  of  a  beer-jerker,  some  from  an 
injudicious  investment  in  a  bob-tail  flush  that  never  got  ripe  enough  to  pick, 
and  some  from  the  rarified  mountain  air,  united  with  an  epidemic  kno^ni  as 
mania  roff/ufi. 

A  funny  incident  of  the  stage  occurred  not  long  ago  to  a  friend  of  mine, 
who  is  traveling  with  a  play  in  which  a  stage  cow  appears.  He  is  using  what 
is  called  a  profile  cow  now,  which  works  by  machinery.  Last  winter  this  cow 
ran  down  while  in  the  middle  of  the  stage,  and  forgot  her  lines.  The  prompter 
gave  the  string  a  jerk  in  order  to  assist  her.  This  broke  the  cow  in  two, 
and  the  fore-quarters  walked  off  to  the  left  into  one  dressing-room,  while  the 
behind-quarters  and  porter-house  steak  retired  to  the  outer  dressing-room. 
The  audience  called  for  an  encore;  but  the  cow  felt  as  though  she  had  made  a 
kind  of  a  bull  of  the  part,  and  would  not  appear.  Those  who  may  be  tempted 
to  harshly  criticise  this  last  remark,  are  gently  reminded  that  the  intense  heat 
of  the  past  month  is  liable  to  effect  anyone's  mind.  Kemember,  gentle 
reader,  that  your  own  brain  may  some  day  soften  also,  and  then  you  vnll 
remember  how  harsh  you  were  toward  me. 

Prior  to  the  profile  cow,  the  company  ran  a  wicker-work  cow,  that  was 
hollow  and  admitted  of  two  hired-men,  who  operated  the  beast  at  a  moderate 
salary.  These  men  drilled  a  long  time  on  what  they  called  a  heifer  dance — a 
b3autiful  spectacular,  and  highly  moral  and  instructive  quadruped  clog,  sirloin 
shuffle,  and  cow  gallop,  to  the  music  of  a  piano-forte.  The  rehearsals  had 
been  crowned  with  success,  and  Avhen  the  coav  came  on  the  stage  she  got  a 
bouquet,  and  made  a  bran  masli  on  one  of  the  ushers. 

She  danced  up  and  down  the  stage,  perfectly  self-possessed,  and  with  that 


482  KEMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

perfect  ^race  ami  abandon  which  is  so  noticeable  in  the  self-made  cow. 
Finally  she  got  through,  the  piano  sounded  a  wild  Wagnerian  bang,  and  the 
cow  danseuse  ambled  off.  She  was  improperly  steered,  hoAvever,  and  ran  her 
head  against  a  wing,  where  she  stopped  in  full  view  of  the  audience.  The 
talent  inside  of  the  cow  thought  they  had  reached  the  dressing-room  and  ran 
against  the  wall,  so  they  felt  perfectly  free  to  converse  with  each  other.  The 
cow  stood  with  her  nose  jammed  up  against  the  wing,  wrapped  in  thought. 
Finally,  from  her  thorax  the  audience  heard  a  voice  say: 

"Jim,  you  blamed  galoot,  that  ain't  the  step  we  took  at  rehearsal  no  moreen 
nuthin'.  If  you're  going  to  improvise  a  new  cow  duet,  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
take  the  fore-quarters  by  surprise  next  time." 

It  is  not  now  known  what  the  reply  was,  for  just  then  the  prompter  came 
on  the  stage,  rudely  twisted  the  tail  of  the  cow,  rousing  her  from  her  lethargy, 
and  harshly  kicking  her  in  the  pit  of  the  stomach,  he  drove  her  off  the  stage. 
The  audience  loudly  called  for  a  repetition,  but  the  cow  refused  to  come  in. 


(i<ior(^<^  t\)(^  ]\)\rd. 


„^^[EOKGE  III.  was  born  in  England  June  4,  1738,  and  ran  for  king  in 
Ipjll^  17G0.  He  was  a  son  of  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  held  the  office 
of  king  for  sixty  years.  He  was  a  natural  born  king  and  succeeded  his 
grandfather,  George  II.  Look  as  you  will  a-dowu  the  long  page  of 
English  history,  and  you  will  not  fail  to  notice  the  scarcity  of  self-made  kings. 
How  few  of  them  were  poor  boys  and  had  to  skin  along  for  years  with  no 
money,  no  influential  friends  and  no  fun. 

Ah,  little  does  the  English  king  know  of  hard  times  and  carrying  two  or 
three  barrels  of  water  to  a  tired  elephant  in  order  that  he  may  get  into  the  af- 
ternoon performance  without  money.  When  he  gets  tired  of  being  prince,  all 
he  has  to  do  is  just  to  be  king  all  day  at  good  wages,  and  then  at  night  take 
off  his  high-priced  crown,  hang  it  up  on  the  hat-rack,  put  on  a  soft  hat  and 
take  in  the  town. 

George  III.  quit  being  prince  at  the  age  of  22  years,  and  began  to  hold 
down  the  English  throne.  He  would  reign  along  for  a  few  years,  taking  it 
kind  of  quiet,  and  then  all  at  once  he  would  declare  war  and  pick  out  some 
people  to  go  abroad  and  leave  their  skeletons  on  some  foreign  shore.  That 
was  George's  favorite  amusement.  He  got  up  the  Spanish  war  in  two  years 
after  he  dome  the  throne;  then  he  had  an  American  revolution,  a  French 
revolution,  an  Irish  rebellion  and  a  Napoleonic  war.  He  dearly  loved  carnage, 
if  it  could  be  prepared  on  a  foreign  strand.  George  always  wanted  imported 
carnage,  even  if  it  came  higher.  It  was  in  1765,  and  early  in  George's  reign, 
that  the  American  stamp  act  passed  the  Legislature  and  the  Goddess  of  Lib- 
erty began  to  kick  over  the  dashboard. 

George  was  different  from  most  English  kings,  morally.  When  he  spit  on 
his  hand  and  grasped  the  sceptre,  he  took  his  scruples  with  him  right  onto  the 
throne.  He  was  not  talked  about  half  so  much  as  other  kings  before  or  since 
his  time.  Nine  o'clock  most  always  found  George  in  bed,  with  his  sceptre  un- 
der the  window-sash,  so  that  he  could  get  plenty  of  fresh  air.     As  it  got  along 

(433) 


434 


REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


toward  9  o'clock,  lie  would  call  the  hired  girl,  tell  her  to  spread  a  linen  lap- 
robe  on  the  throne  till  morning,  issue  a  royal  ukase  directing  her  to  turn  out 
the  cat,  and  instriicting  the  cook  to  set  the  jiancake  batter  behind  the  royal 
stove  in  the  council  chamber,  then  he  would  wind  the  clock  and  retire.  Early 
in  the  morning  George  would  be  up  and  dressed,  have  all  his  chores  done  and 
the  throne  dusted  off  ready  for  anotlier  hard  day's  reign. 

George  III.  is  the  party  referred  to  in  the  Declaration  of  Independence  as 
the  present  king  of  Great  Britain,  and  of  whom  many  bitter  personal  remarks 
were  made  by  American  patriots.     On  this  side  of  the  water  George  was  noi 


WRAPPED    IN   SLUMBER. 


highly  esteemed.  If  he  had  come  over  here  to  spend  the  summer  with  friends 
in  Boston,  during  the  days  of  the  stamp  act  excitement,  he  could  have  gone 
home  packed  in  ice,  no  doubt,  and  with  a  Swiss  sunset  under  each  eye. 

George's  mind  was  always  a  little  on  the  bias,  and  in  1810  he  went  crazy 
for  the  fifth  time.  Always  before  that  he  had  gone  right  ahead  with  his  reign, 
whether  he  was  crazy  or  not,  but  with  the  fifth  attack  of  insanity,  coupled  with 
suggestion  of  the  brain  and  blind  staggers,  it  was  decided  to  tie  him  up  in  the 
barn  and  let  someone  else  reign  awhile.  The  historian  says  that  blindness 
succeeded  this  attack,  and  in  1811  the  Prince  of  Wales  became  regent. 

George  III.  died  at  Windsor  in  1820,  with  the  consent  of  a  joint  committee 
of  both  houses  of  congress,  at  the  age  of  82  years.     He  made  the  longest  run 


GEORGE    THE    THIRD.  '  435 

as  king,  without  stoj)ping  for  feed  or  water,  of  any  monarch  in  English  his- 
tory. Sixty  years  is  a  long  time  to  be  a  monarch  and  look  under  the  bed  every 
night  for  a  Nihilist  loaded  with  a  cut-glass  bomb  and  Paris  green.  Sixty  years 
is  a  long  while  to  jerk  a  sceptre  over  a  nation  and  keep  on  the  right  side,  polit- 
ically, all  the  time. 

George  was  of  an  inventive  turn  of  mind,  and  used  to  be  monkeying  with 
some  kind  of  a  patent,  evenings,  after  he  had  peeled  his  royal  robes.  Most  of 
his  patents  related  to  land,  however,  and  some  of  the  most  successful  soil  in 
Massachusetts  was  patented  by  George. 

He  was  always  trying  some  scheme  to  make  a  pile  of  money  easy,  so  that 
he  wouldn't  have  to  work;  but  he  died  poor  and  crazy  at  last,  in  England.  He 
was  not  very  smart,  but  he  attended  to  business  all  the  time,  and  did  not  get 
up  much  of  a  reputation  as  a  moral  leper.  He  said  that  as  king  of  Great 
Britain  and  general  superintendent  of  Cork  he  did  not  aim  to  make  much  noise, 
but  he  desired  to  attract  universal  attention  by  being  so  moral  that  he  would 
be  regarded  as  eccentric  by  other  crowned  heads. 


St^e  <^e\\  flese. 


WfjO  THE  MEMBERS  OF  THE  ACADEMY  OF  SCIENCE,  at  Erin 
^^^    Prairie,  Wisconsin: 


Gentlemen: — I  beg  leave  to  submit  herewith  my  microscopic  re- 
^^  port  on  the  several  sealed  specimens  of  proud  flesh  and  other  memen- 
toes taken  from  the  roof  of  Mr.  Flannery's  mouth.  As  Mr.  Flannery  is  the 
mayor  of  Erin  Prairie,  and  therefore  has  a  world-wide  reputation,  I  deemed  it 
sufficiently  important  to  the  woi'ld  at  large,  and  pleasing  to  Mr.  Flanuery's 
family,  to  publish  this  report  in  the  medical  journals  of  the  country,  and  have 
it  telegraphed  to  the  leading  newspapers  at  their  expense.  Knowing  that  the 
world  at  large  is  hungry  to  learn  how  the  laudable  pus  of  an  eminent  man  ap- 
])ears  under  the  microscope,  and  what  a  pleasure  it  must  be  to  his  family  to 
read  tne  description  after  his  death,  I  have  just  opened  a  new  box  of  difficult 
words  and  herewith  transmit  a  report  which  will  be  an  ornament  not  only  to 
the  scrap-book  of  Mr.  Flannery's  immediate  family  after  his  death,  but  a  price- 
less boon  to  the  reading  public  at  large. 

Removing  the  seals  from  the  jars  as  soon  as  I  had  returned  from  the  ex- 
press office,  I  poured  off  the  alcohol  and  recklessly  threw  it  away.  A  true  sci- 
entist does  not  care  for  expense. 

The  first  specimen  was  in  a  good  state  of  preservation  on  its  arrival.  I 
never  saw  a  more  beautiful  or  robust  proliferation  epitherial  cell  nest  in  my 
life.  It  must  have  been  secured  immediately  after  the  old  epitherial  had  left 
the  nest,  and  it  was  in  good  order  on  its  arrival.  The  whole  lobule  was  look- 
ing first-rate.  You  might  ride  for  a  week  and  not  run  across  a  prettier  lobule 
or  a  more  artistic  aggregation  of  cell  nosts  outside  a  penitentiary. 

Only  one  cell  nest  had  been  allowed  to  dry  up  on  the  way,  and  this  looked 
a  good  deal  fatigued.  In  one  specimen  I  noticed  a  carneous  degeneration,  but 
this  is  really  no  reflection  on  Mr.  Flannery  personally.  While  he  has  been  ill 
it  is  not  surprising  that  he  should  allow  his  cell  nests  to  carneously  degenerate. 
Such  a  thing  might  happen  to  almost  any  of  us. 

One  of  the  scrapings  from  the  sore  on  the  right  posterior  fauces,  I  found  on 
its  arrival,  had  been  seriously  injured,  and  therefore  not  available.  I  return 
it  herewith. 

(436) 


THE   CELL   NEST.  437 

From  an  examination,  which  has  been  conducted  with  great  care,  I  am  led 
to  believe  that  the  right  posterior  rafter  of  Mr.  Flannery's  mouth  is  slightly- 
indurated,  and  it  is  barely  possible  that  the  northeast  duplex  and  parotid  gable 
end  of  the  roof  of  his  mouth  may  become  involved. 

I  wish  you  would  ask  Mr.  Flannery's  immediate  relatives,  if  you  can  do  so 
without  arousing  alarm  in  the  breast  of  the  patient,  if  there  has  ever  been  a 
marked  predisposition  on  the  part  of  his  ancestors  to  tubercular  gumboil.  I 
do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  giving  this  diagnosis  as  final  at  all,  but  from 
what  I  have  already  stated,  taken  together  with  other  clinical  and  pathological 
data  within  my  reach,  and  the  fact  that  minute,  lobulated  gumboil  bactinse 
were  found  floating  through  some  of  the  cell  nests,  I  have  every  reason  to  fear 
the  worst,  I  would  be  glad  to  receive  from  you  for  microscopic  examination  a 
fragment  of  Mr,  Flannery's  malpighian  layer,  showing  evidences  of  cell  pro- 
liferation. I  only  suggest  this,  of  course,  as  practicable  in  case  there  should 
be  a  malpighian  layer  which  Mr.  Flannery  is  not  using.  Do  not  ask  him  to 
take  a  malpighian  layer  off  her  cell  nest  just  to  please  me. 

From  one  microscopic  examination  I  hardly  feel  justified  in  giving  a  diag- 
nosis, nor  care  to  venture  any  suggestion  as  to  treatment,  but  it  might  be  well 
to  kalsomine  the  roof  of  Mr.  Flannery's  mouth  with  gum-arabic,  white  lime 
and  glue  in  equal  parts. 

There  has  already  been  some  extravatations  and  a  marked  multiformity.  I 
also  noticed  an  inflamed  and  angry  color  to  the  stroma  with  trimmings  of  the 
same.  This  might  only  indicate  that  Mr.  Flannery  had  kept  his  mouth  open 
too  much  during  the  summer,  and  sunburned  the  roof  of  his  mouth,  were  it 
not  that  I  also  discovered  traces  of  gumboil  microbes  of  the  squamous  variety. 
This  leads  me  to  fear  the  worst  for  Mr.  Flannery.  However,  if  the  gentle- 
manly, courteous  and  urbane  members  of  the  Academy  of  Science,  of  Erin 
Prairie,  to  whom  I  am  already  largely  indebted  for  past  favors,  will  kindly  for- 
ward to  me,  prepaid,  another  scraping  from  the  mansard  roof  of  Mr.  Flannery's 
mouth  next  week,  I  will  open  another  keg  of  hard  words  and  trace  this  gum- 
boil theory  to  a  successful  termination,  if  I  liave  to  use  up  the  whole  ceiling  of 
the  patient's  mouth. 

Yours,  with  great  sincerity,  profundity  and  verbosity. 

Bill  Nye, 
Microscopist,  Lobulist  and  Microbist. 

Hudson,  Wis.,  May  6. 


parental  /^duiee. 


'^^^HE  past  fifty  years  have  done  much  for  the  newspaper  and  periodical 
^f  i A&  readers  of  the  United  States.  That  period  has  been  fruitful  of  great 
*'■  j^F  advancement  and  a  great  reduction  in  price,  but  these  are  not  all.  Fif- 
^  ty  years  and  less  have  classified  information  so  that  science  and  sense 
are  conveniently  found,  and  humor  and  nonsense  have  their  proper  sphere. 
All  branches  are  pretty  full  of  lively  and  thoroughly  competent  writers,  who 
take  hold  of  their  own  special  work  even  as  the  thorough,  quick-eyed  mechanic 
takes  hold  of  his  line  of  labor  and  acquits  himself  in  a  creditable  manner.  The 
various  lines  of  journalism  may  appear  to  be  crowded,  but  they  are  not.  There 
may  be  too  much  vagabond  journalism,  but  the  road  that  is  traveled  by  the 
legitimate  laborer  is  not  crowded.  The  clean,  Caucasian  journalist,  as  he 
climbs  the  hill,  is  not  crowded  very  much.  He  can  make  out  to  elbow  his  way 
toward  the  front,  if  he  tries  very  hard.  There  may  be  too  much  James  Crow 
science,  and  too  much  editorial  vandalism  and  gush,  and  too  much  of  the  jour- 
nalism for  revenue  only.  There  may  be  too  much  ringworm  humor  also,  but 
there  is  still  a  demand  for  the  scientific  work  of  the  true  student.  There  is 
still  a  good  market  for  honest  editorial  opinion,  reliable  news  and  fearless  and 
funny  paragraph  work  and  character  sketches,  as  the  song  and  dance  men 
would  say. 

All  this,  however,  points  in  one  direction.  It  all  has  one  hoarse  voice,  and 
in  the  tones  of  the  culverin,  whatever  that  is,  it  says  that  to  the  young  man 
who  is  starting  out  with  the  intention  of  filling  the  tomb  of  a  millionaire, 
"Learn  to  do  something  well." 

Lots  of  people  rather  disliked  the  famous  British  hangman,  and  thought 
he  hadn't  made  a  great  record  for  himself,  but  he  performed  a  duty  that  had 
to  be  done  by  someone,  and  no  one  ever  complained  much  about  Marwood's 
work.  He  warranted  every  job  and  told  everyone  that  if  they  were  dissatisfied 
he  would  refund  their  money  at  the  door.  No  man  ever  came  back  to  Mar- 
wood  and  said,  "  Sir,  you  broke  my  neck  in  an  unworkmanlike  manner." 

(438) 


J 


PAEENTAL   ADVICE.  439 

It  is  better  to  be  a  successful  hangman  than  to  be  tlie  banished,  abused  and 
heart-broken,  cast-off  husband  of  a  great  actress.  Learn  to  take  hokl  of  some 
business  and  jerk  it  bahl-headed.  Learn  to  dress  yourself  first.  This  will  give 
you  self-assurance,  so  that  you  can  go  away  from  home  and  not  be  dependent 
on  your  mother.  Teach  yourself  to  be  accurate  and  careful  in  all  things.  It 
is  better  to  turn  the  handle  of  a  sausage  grinder  and  make  a  style  of  sausage 
that  is  free  from  hydi'ophobia,  than  to  be  the  extremely  hence  cashier  of  a 
stranded  bank,  fighting  horseflies  in  the  solemn  hush  of  a  Canadian  forest. 

People  have  wrong  ideas  of  the  respective  merits  of  different  avocations.  It 
is  better  to  be  the  successful  di'iver  of  a  dray  than  to  be  the  unsuccessful  in- 
ventor of  a  still-born  motor,  I  would  rather  discover  how  to  successfully  wean 
a  calf  from  the  parent  stem  without  being  boosted  over  a  nine  rail  fence,  than 
to  discover  a  new  star  that  had  never  been  used,  and  the  next  evening  find  that 
it  had  made  an  assignment. 

Boys,  oh,  boys !  How  I  wish  I  could  take  each  of  you  by  the  ear  and  lead 
you  away  by  yourselves,  and  show  you  how  many  ruins  strew  the  road  to  suc- 
cess, and  how  life  is  like  a  mining  boom.  We  only  hear  of  those  who 
strike  it  rich.  The  hopeful,  industrious  prospector  who  failed  to  find  the  con- 
tact and  finally  filled  a  nameless  grave,  is  soon  forgotten  when  he  is  gone,  but 
a  million  tongues  tell  to  forty  million  listening  ears  of  the  man  who  struck  it 
rich  and  went  to  Europe. 

Therefore  make  haste  to  advance  slowly  and  surely.  I  am  aware  that  your 
ears  ache  with  the  abundance  wherewith  ye  are  advised,  but  if  ye  seek  not 
to  brace  up  while  yet  it  is  called  to-day,  and  file  away  information  for  future 
reference  and  cease  to  look  upon  the  fifteen-ball  pool  game  when  it  movetJi  it- 
self aright,  at  such  time  as  ye  think  not  ye  shall  be  in  pecuniary  circumstances 
and  there  shall  be  none  to  indorse  for  you — nay,  not  one. 


^arly  Dayjustic^e. 


•jf 


HOSE  were  troublesome  times,  indeed.  All  wool  justice 
in  the  courts  was  imj)(issible.  The  vigilance  committee, 
or  Salvation  Army  as  it  calledi  tself,  didn't  make  much 
fuss  about  it,  but  we  all  knew  that  the  best  citizens 
belonged  to  it  and  were  in  good  standing. 

It  was  in  those  days  when  young  Stewart  was  short- 
handed  for  a  sheep  herder,  and  had  to  take  up  with  a 
sullen,  hairy  vagrant,  called  by  the  other  boys  "Esau.'" 
Esau  hadn't  been  on  the  ranch  a  week  before  he  made 
trouble  with  the  proprietor  and  got  the  red-hot  blessing  from  Stewart  he  de- 
served. 

Then  Esau  got  madder  and  sulked  away  down  the  valley  among  the  little 
sage  brush  hummocks  and  white  alkali  waste  land  to  nurse  his  wrath.  When 
Stewart  drove  into  the  corral  at  night,  from  town,  Esau  raised  up  from  behind 
an  old  sheep  dip  tank,  and  without  a  word  except  wdiat  may  have  growled 
around  in  his  black  heart,  he  raised  a  leveled  Spencer  and  shot  his  young 
employer  dead. 

That  was  the  tragedy  of  the  week  only.  Others  had  occurred  before  and 
others  would  probably  occur  again.  It  was  getting  too  prevalent  for  comfort. 
So,  as  soon  as  a  quick  cayuse  and  a  boy  could  get  down  into  town,  the  news 
spread  and  the  authorities  began  in  the  routine  manner  to  set  the  old  legal 
mill  to  running.  Someone  had  to  go  down  to  "The  Tivoli"  and  find  the 
prosecuting  attorney,  then  a  messenger  had  to  go  to  "The  Alhambra"  for  the 
justice  of  the  peace.  The  prosecuting  attorney  was  "full"  and  the  judge  had 
just  drawn  one  card  to  complete  a  straight  flush,  and  had  succeeded. 

In  the  meantime  the  Salvation  Army  was  fully  half  way  to  Clugston's 
ranch.  They  had  started  out,  as  they  said,  "to  see  that  Esau  didn't  get 
away."     They  were  going  out  there  to  see  that  Esau  was  brought  into  town. 

"From  the  Cliicaoo  Rambler.  (440) 


EARLY    DAY    JUSTICE, 


441 


What  liappened  after  they  got 
there  I  only  know  from  hearsay, 
for  I  was  not  a  member  of  the  Sal- 
vation Army  at  that  time.  But  I 
got  it  from  one  of  those  present,  that 
they  found  Esau  down  in  the  sage 
brush  on  the  bottoms  that  lie  be- 
tween the  abrupt  corner  of  Sheep 
Mountain  and  the  Little  Laramie 
River.  Tliey  captured  him,  but 
he  died  soon  after,  as  it  was  told 
me,  from  the  effects  of  opium 
taken  with  suicidal  intent.  I 
remember  seeing  Esau  the  next 
morning  and  I  thought  there  were 
signs  of  ropium,  as  there  was  a  pur- 
ple streak  around  the  neck  of  de- 
ceased, together  with  other  exter- 
nal phenomena  not  peculiar  to 
opium. 

But  the  great  difficulty  with  the 
Salvation  Army  Avas  that  it  didn't 
want  to  bring  Esau  into  town.  A 
long,  cold  night  ride  with  a  per- 
son in  Esau's  condition  was  disa- 
greeable. Twenty  miles  of  lonely 
road  with  a  deceased  murderer  in 
the  bottom  of  the  wagon  is  de- 
pressing. Those  of  my  readers 
who  have  tried  it  will  agree  with 

me  that  it  is  not  calculated  to  promote  hilarity.  So  the  Salvation  Army  stopped 
at  Whatley's  ranch  to  get  warm,  hoping  that  someone  would  steal  the  remains 
and  elope  with  them.  They  stayed  some  time  and  numaged  to  "give  away" 
the  fact  that  there  was  a  reward  of  ^5,000  out  for  Esau,  dead  or  alive.  The 
Salvation  Army  even  went  so  far  as  to  betray  a  great  deal  of  hilarity  over  the 


THE    SALVATION    AliMY. 


442  REMAKES    BY    BILL    NYE. 

easy  way  it  liad  nailed  the  reward,  or  would  as  soon  as  said  remains  were 
dolivored  u[)  and  identified. 

Mr.  AVliatley  thought  that  the  Salvation  Army  was  having  a  kind  of  walk- 
away, so  he  slipped  out  at  the  back  door  of  the  ranch,  put  Esau  into  his  own 
wagon  and  drove  away  to  town.      Remember,  this  is  the  way  it  was  told  to  me. 

Mr.  Whatley  hadn't  gone  more  than  half  a  mile  when  he  heard  the  wild 
and  disappointed  yells  of  the  Salvation  Army.  He  put  the  buckskin  on  the 
backs  of  his  horses  without  mercy,  driven  on  by  the  enraged  shouts  and  yells 
of  his  infuriated  pursuers.  He  reached  town  about  midnight,  and  his  })ursuers 
disappeared.      But  what  was  he  to  do  with  Esau? 

He  drove  around  all  over  town,  trying  to  find  the  official  who  sighed  for  the 
deceased.  Mr.  Whatley  went  from  house  to  house  like  a  vegetable  man,  seek- 
ing sadly  for  the  party  who  would  give  him  a  ^5,000  check  for  Esau.  Nothing 
could  be  more  depressing  than  to  wake  up  one  man  after  another  out  of  a  sound 
sleep  and  invite  him  to  come  out  to  the  buggy  and  identify  the  remains.  One 
man  went  out  and  looked  at  him.  He  said  he  didn't  know  how  others  felt 
about  it,  but  he  allowed  that  anybody  who  would  pay  $5,000  for  such  a  remains 
as  Esau's  could  not  have  very  good  taste. 

Gradually  it  crept  through  Mr.  Whatley's  wool  that  the  Salvation  Army 
had  been  working  him,  so  he  left  Esau  at  the  engine  house  and  went  home. 
On  his  ranch  he  nailed  up  a  large  board  on  which  had  been  painted  in  antique 
characters  with  a  paddle  and  tar  the  following  stanzas: 

1:^^  Vigilance  Committees,  Salvation  Armies,  Morgues,  or  young  physi- 
cians who  may  have  deceased  people  on  their  hands,  are  requested  to  refrain 
from  conferring  them  on  to  the  undersigned. 

1^^ People  who  contemplate  shuffling  off  their  own  or  other  people's  mortal 
coils,  will  please  not  do  so  on  these  grounds. 

^^^Tlie  Salvation  Army  of  the  Eocky  Mountains  is  especially  hereby 
warned  to  keep  off  the  grass !  James  Whatley. 


Jf7^  Ipdiap  Orator. 


m 


ff  LIKE  to  read  of  tlie  Indian  orator  in  the  old  school  books.  Most  every- 
one does.  It  is  generally  remarkable  that  the  American  Demosthenes,  so 
far,  has  dwelt  in  the  tepee,  and  lived  on  the  debris  of  the  deer  and  the 
"^^  buffalo.  I  mean  to  say  that  the  school  readers  have  impressed  us  with  the 
great  magnetism  of  the  crude  warrior  who  dwelt  in  the  wilderness  and  ate  his 
game,  feathers  and  all,  while  he  studied  the  art  of  swaying  the  audience  by  his 
oratorical  powers. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Black  Hawk  and  Logan  must  have  been  fortu- 
nate in  securing  mighty  able  private  secretaries,  or  that  they  stood  in  with  the 
stenogra})hers  of  their  day.  At  least,  the  Blue  Juniata  warriors  of  our  time, 
from  Little  Crow,  Red  Iron,  Standing  Buffalo,  Hole-in-the-Day  and  Sittin<'- 
Bull,  to  Victoria,  Colorow,  Douglas,  Persume,  Captain  Jack  and  Shavano,  seem 
to  do  better  as  lobbyists  than  they  do  as  orators.  They  may  be  keen,  lo^rical 
and  shrewd,  but  they  are  not  eloquent.  In  some  minds.  Black  Hawk  will  ever 
appear  as  the  Patrick  Henry  of  his  people ;  but  I  prefer  to  honor  his  unknown, 
unhonored  and  unsung  amanuensis.  Think  what  a  godsend  such  a  man 
would  have  been  to  Senator  Tabor. 

The  Indian  orator  of  to-day  is  not  scholarly  and  grand.  He  is  soiled, 
ignorant  and  sedentary  in  his  habits.  An  orator  ought  to  take  care  of  his 
health.  He  cannot  overload  his  stomach  and  make  a  bronze  Daniel  Webster 
of  himself.  He  cannot  eat  a  raw  buffalo  for  breakfast  and  at  once  aitack  the 
question  of  tariff  for  revenue  only.  His  brain  is  not  clear  enough.  He  can- 
not digest  the  mammalia  of  North  America  and  seek  out  the  delicate  intrica- 
cies of  the  financial  problem  at  the  same  time.  All  scientists  and  physiolo- 
gists will  readily  see  why  this  is  true. 

It  is  quite  popular  to  say  that  the  modern  Indian  has  seen  too  much  of 
civilization.  This  may  be  true.  Anyhow,  civilization  has  seen  too  much  of 
him.  I  hope  the  day  will  never  come  when  the  pale  face  and  the  White 
Father  will  have  to  stay  on  their  reservation,  whether  the  red  man  does 
or  not. 

(443^ 


444  EEMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Indian  eloquence,  toned  down  by  the  mellow  haze  of  a  hundred  years, 
sounds  very  well,  but  the  clarion  voice  of  the  red  orator  has  died  away.  The 
stony  figure,  the  eagle  eye,  the  matchless  presence,  have  all  ceased  to  palpitate. 

He  does  not  say:  "I  am  an  aged  hemlock.  I  am  dead  at  the  top.  The 
forest  is  filled  with  the  ghosts  of  my  people.  I  hear  their  moans  on  the  night 
winds  and  in  the  sighing  pines."  He  does  not  talk  in  the  blank  verse  of  a 
century  ago.  He  uses  a  good  many  blanks,  but  it  is  not  blank  verse.  Even 
the  Indian's  friend  would  admit  that  it  was  not  blank  verse.  Perhaps  it  might 
be  called  blankety  verse. 

Once  he  pleaded  for  the  land  of  his  fathers.  Now  he  howls  for  grub,  guns 
and  fixed  ammunition. 

I  tried  to  interview  a  big  Crow  chief  once.  I  had  heard  some  Sioux,  and 
learned  a  few  irrelevant  and  disconnected  Ute  phrases.  I  connected  these  with 
some  Spanish  terms  and  hoped  to  get  a  reply,  and  keep  up  a  kind  of  running 
conversation  that  might  mislead  a  friend  who  was  with  me,  into  the  belief  that 
I  was  as  familiar  with  the  Indian  tongue  as  with  my  own.  I  began  conversing 
with  him  in  my  polyglot  manner.  I  did  not  get  a  reply.  I  conversed  with 
him  some  more  in  a  desultory  way,  for  I  had  heard  that  he  was  a  great  orator 
in  his  tribe,  and  I  wanted  to  get  his  view^s  on  national  affairs.  Still  he  was 
silent.  He  would  not  even  answer  me.  I  got  hostile  and  used  some  badly 
damaged  Spanish  on  him.  Then  I  used  some  sprained  and  dislocated  German 
on  him,  but  he  didn't  seem  to  wot  whereof  I  spoke. 

Then  my  friend,  with  all  the  assurance  of  a  fresh  young  manhood,  began  to 
talk  with  the  great  warrior  in  the  English  language,  and  incidentally  asked 
him  aboat  a  new  Indian  agent,  who  had  the  name  of  being  a  bogus  Christian 
with  an  eye  to  the  main  chance. 

My  friend  talked  very  loud,  with  the  idea  that  the  chieftain  could  under- 
stand any  language  if  spoken  so  that  you  could  hear  it  in  the  next  Territory. 
At  the  mention  of  the  Indian  agent's  name,  the  Crow  statesman  brightened  up 
and  made  a  remark     He  simply  said:     "Ugh!  too  much  God  and  no  flour," 


You  )^eal?  /T)e,  5af7! 

y^W[OL.  VISSCHEE,  of  Denver,  who  is  delivering  his  lecture,  "Sixty  Min- 
T  if  ^^^^^  "^  *^^^  War,"  tells  a  good  story  on  himself  of  an  episode,  or  some- 
^&i[  *^"^g  o^  ^^^^^  nature,  that  occurred  to  him  in  the  days  when  he  was  the 
^1^"      amanuensis  of  George  D.  Prentice. 

Yisscher,  in  those  days,  was  a  fair-haired  young  man,  with  pale  blue  eyes, 
and  destitute  of  that  wealth  of  brow  and  superficial  area  of  polished  dome 
which  he  now  exhibits  on  the  rostrum.  He  was  learning  the  lesson  of  life 
then,  and  every  now  and  then  he  would  bump  up  against  an  octagonal  mass  of 
cold-pressed  truth  of  the  never-dying  variety  that  seemed  to  kind  of  stun  and 
concuss  him. 

One  day  Mr.  Visscher  wandered  into  a  prominent  hotel  in  Louisville,  and, 
observing  with  surprise  and  pleasure  that  "boiled  lobster"  was  one  of  the  del- 
icacies on  the  bill  of  fare,  he  ordered  one. 

He  never  had  seen  lobster,  and  a  rare  treat  seemed  to  be  in  store  for 
him.  He  breathed  in  what  atmosphere  there  was  in  the  dining-room,  and 
waited  for  his  bird.  At  last  it  was  brought  in.  Mr.  Visscher  took  one 
hasty  look  at  the  great  scarlet  mass  of  voluptuous  limbs  and  oceanic  nippers, 
and  sighed.  The  lobster  was  as  large  as  a  door  mat,  and  had  a  very  angry 
and  inflamed  appearance.  Visscher  ordered  in  a  powerful  cocktail  to  give  him 
courage,  and  then  he  tried  to  carve  off  some  of  the  breast. 

The  lobster  is  honery  even  in  death.  He  is  eccentric  and  trifling.  Those 
who  knoAv  him  best  are  the  first  to  evade  him  and  shun  him.  Visscher  had 
failed  to  straddle  the  wish  bone  with  his  fork  properly,  and  the  talented  bird 
of  the  deep  rolling  sea  slipped  out  of  the  platter,  waved  itself  across  the  hor- 
izon twice,  and  buried  itself  in  the  bosom  of  the  eminent  and  talented  young 
man.  The  eminent  and  talented  young  man  took  it  in  his  napkin,  put  it  care- 
fully on  the  table,  and  went  away. 

As  he  passed  out,  the  head  waiter  said : 

"Mr.  Visscher,  was  there  anything  the  matter  with  your  lobster?" 

(445) 


446  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Vissclier  is  a  full-blooded  Kentuckian,  and  answered  in  tlie  courteous  dia- 
lect of  the  blue-grass  country. 

"Anything  the  matter  with  my  lobster,  sah?  No,  sah.  The  lobster  is 
very  vigorous,  sah.  If  you  had  asked  me  how  I  was,  sah,  I  should  have  an- 
SAvered  you  very  differently,  sah.  lam  not  well  at  all,  sah.  If  I  were  as  well, 
and  as  rudtly,  and  as  active  as  that  lobster,  sah,  I  would  live  forever,  sah. 
You  lieahme,  sah? 

"Why,  of  course,  I  am  not  familiar  with  the  habits  of  the  lobster,  sah,  and 
do  not  know  how  to  kearve  the  bosom  of  the  bloomin'  peri  of  the  summer  sea, 
but  that's  no  reason  why  the  inflamed  reptile  should  get  up  on  his  hind  feet 
and  nestle  up  to  me,  sah,  in  that  earnest  and  forthwith  manner,  sah. 

"I  love  dumb  beasts,  sah,  and  they  love  me,  sah;  but  when  they  are  dead, 
sah,  and  I  undertake  to  kearve  them,  sah,  I  desiah,  sah,  that  they  should  re- 
main as  the  undertakah  left  them,  sah.     You  doubtless  heahme,  sah! " 


piato. 


ILATO  was  a  Greek  philosopher  who  flourished  about  426  B.  C,  and  kept 
on  flourishing  for  eigty-one  years  after  that,  when  he  suddenly  ceased 


IL  to  do  so.  He  early  took  to  poetry,  but  when  he  found  that  his  poems 
Avere  rejected  by  the  Greek  papers,  he  ceased  writing  poetry  and  went 
into  the  philosophy  business.  At  that  time  Greece  had  no  regular  philoso- 
pher, and  so  Plato  soon  got  all  he  could  do. 

Plato  was  a  pupil  of  Socrates,  who  was  himself  no  slouch  of  a  philosopher. 
Many  and  many  a  day  did  Socrates  take  his  little  class  of  kindergarten  phil- 
osophers up  the  shady  banks  of  the  Ilissus,  and  sit  all  day  discoursing  to  his 
pupils  on  deep  and  difiicult  doctrines,  while  his  unsandaled  feet  were  bathed  in 
the  genial  tide.  Many  happy  hours  were  thus  spent.  Socrates  would  take 
his  dinner  or  tell  some  wonderful  tale  to  his  class,  whereby  he  would  win 
their  dinner  himself.  Then  in  the  deep  Athenian  shade,  with  his  bare,  Gothic 
feet  in  the  clear,  calm  waters  of  the  Ilissus,  he  would  eat  the  Grecian  dough- 
nut of  his  pupils,  and  while  he  spoke  in  poetic  terms  of  his  belief,  he  would 
dig  his  heel  in  the  mud  and  heave  a  heart-broken  sigh. 

Such  was  Socrates,  the  great  teacher.  He  got  a  small  salary,  and  went 
barefoot  till  after  Thanksgiving.  He  was  a  great  tutor,  and  boarded  around, 
teaching  in  the  open  air  while  the  mosquitos  bit  his  bare  feet.  No  tutor  ever 
tuted  with  a  more  unselfish  purpose  or  a  smaller  salary. 

Plato  maintained,  among  other  things,  that  evil  is  connected  with  matter, 
and  aside  from  matter  we  do  not  find  evil  existing.  That  is  true.  At  least, 
such  evil  as  we  might  find  apart  from  matter  would  be  outside  the  jurisdiction 
of  a  police  court.  I  think  Plato  was  correct.  Evil  and  matter  are  insepar- 
able.    Tliat^s  what's  the  matter. 

It  is  quite  common  for  us  to  say  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward.  Plato  held 
that,  while  it  was  better  to  be  virtuous  as  a  matter  of  economy  and  ultimate 
peace  than  not  to  be  virtuous  at  all,  he  believed  in  being  virtuous  for  a  higher 
reason.     Probably  it  was  notoriety.     He  would  rather  be  right  than  be  presi- 

(447) 


448 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


dent.  He  believed  in  being  good  just  for  the  excitement  of  it,  and  tlie  notice 
it  would  attract,  and  not  because  it  paid.     Plato  was  a  great  virtuoso. 

Socrates  would  have  been  called  a  crank  if  he  had  lived  in  our  day  and 
age,  and  if  Plato  were  to  go  into  London  or  New  York  and  talk  of  organizing 
a  society"  for  the  encouragement  of  virtue  among  adult  male  taxpayers  he  would 
have  a  lonesome  time  of  it.  Be  virtuous  and  you  will  be  happy  was  a  favorite 
motto  with  Plato.  The  legend  is  still  quoted  by  those  who  love  to  ransack  the 
dead  past. 

Pluto  was  quite  another  party,  and  some  get  him  mixed  up  with  Plato. 
They  were  not  related  in  any  way,  Pluto  being  a  son  of  Saturn  and  Rhea,  who 


NEPTUNE   TAKING    A   RIDE, 

flourished  at  about  the  same  time  as  Plato.  Pluto  was  a  brother  of  Jupiter 
and  Neptune,  and  when  the  estate  of  Saturn  was  wound  up,  Jupiter  wanted  the 
earth,  and  he  got  it.  Neptune  wanted  the  codfish  conservatory  and  the  mer- 
maid's home,  so  he  took  the  deep,  deep  sea,  and  even  yet  he  rides  around  in  a 
gold  spangled  stone  boat  on  the  pale  green  billows  of  the  summer  sea,  jabbing 
a  pickerel  ever  and  anon  with  a  three  pronged  fork.  He  leads  a  gay  life, 
going  to  picnics  with  the  mermaids  in  their  coral  caves,  or  attending  their  full 
evening  dress  parties,  clad  in  a  trident  and  a  full  beard.  He  loves  the  sea, 
the  lone,  blue  sea,  and  those  who  have  seen  him  turning  handsprings  on  a 
sponge  lawn,  or  riding  in  his  water-tight  chariot  with  his  feet  over  the  dash- 


PLATO.  449 

board,  beside  a  slim  young  mermaid  with  Paris  green   hair,  and  dressed  in 
a  tight-fitting,  low-neck  dorsal  fin,  say  he  is  a  lively  old  party. 

But  Pluto  was  different.  He  stood  around  till  the  estate  was  all  closed 
up,  and  it  looked  as  though  he  had  got  left.  Just  then  the  administrator 
says:  "Why,  here's  Piute.  He  is  going  to  come  out  of  the  little  end  of  the 
horn.  He  will  have  to  hustle  for  liimself."  Pluto  resented  this  and  clinched 
with  the  administrator.  They  fought  till  each  had  a  watch  pocket  on  the  brow 
and  an  Irish  sunset  symphony  in  green  under  the  eye,  while  Jupiter  and  Nep- 
tune stood  by  and  encouraged  the  fight.  Jupiter  rather  took  sides  with  his 
brother,  and  Neptune  stood  in  with  the  administrator.  In  the  midst  of  the 
confusion  Jupiter  speaks  up  and  says:  "Swat  him  under  the  ear,  Piute.'' 
"Whereupon  Neptune  says  to  the  administrator.  "Give  him — hail.'  The 
administrator  paused  and  said  that  was  a  good  suggestion.  He  would  do  so 
And  so  he  forgave  Pluto  and  gave  him — sheol. 


E\)e  Exper^siue  U/ord. 

j^W; ^m^-^ UCH  that  is  annoying  in  this  life  is  occasioned  by  the  use  of  a  high 
^V  /  \  /  I  priced  word  where  a  cheaper  one  would  do.  In  these  days  of  fail- 
•M—L  v.  ure,  shortage  at  both  ends  and  financial  stringency  generally,  I  of- 
"^j-:.^cnf-~"  ten  Avonder  that  some  people  should  go  on,  day  after  day,  using  just 
as  extravagant  language  as  they  did  during  the  flusli  times.  When  I  get  hard 
up  the  first  thing  I  do  is  to  economize  in  my  expressions  in  every  day  conver- 
sation. If  there  is  a  marked  stringency  in  business,  I  lay  aside  first,  my 
French,  then  my  Latin,  and  finally  my  German.  Should  the  times  become 
greatly  depressed  and  failures  and  assignments  become  frequent,  I  begin  to 
lop  off  the  large  words  in  my  own  language,  beginning  with  "incomprehensi- 
bility,'" ''unconstitutionality,"  etc.,  etc. 

Julius  Caesar's  motto  used  to  be,  "Avoid  an  unusual  word  as  you  would  a 
rock  at  sea,"  and  Jule  was  right  about  it,  too.  Large  and  unusual  words,  es- 
pecially in  the  mouths  of  ignorant  people,  are  worse  than  "  Bough  on  Rats"  in 
a  boarding-house  pie. 

Years  ago  there  used  to  be  a  pompous  cuss  in  southern  Wisconsin,  who  was 
a  self-made  man.  Extremely  so.  Those  who  used  to  hear  him  assert  again 
and  again  that  he  was  a  self-made  man  always  felt  renewed  confidence  in  the 
Creator. 

He  rose  one  evening  in  a  political  meeting,  and  swelling  out  his  bosom, 
as  his  eagle  eye  rested  on  the  chairman,  he  said: 

"Mr.  Cheerman!  I  move  you  that  the  cheer  do  appoint  a  committee  of 
three  to  attend  to  the  matter  under  discussion,  and  that  sayed  committee  be 
clothed  by  the  cheer  with  ominiscient  and  omnipotent  powers." 

The  motion  was  duly  seconded  and  the  cheerman  said  he  guessed  that  it 
wouldn't  be  necessary  to  put  it  to  a  vote. 

"I  guess  it  will  be  all  right,  Mr.  Pinkham.  I  guess  there'll  be  no  decliv- 
ity to  that." 

And  so  the  committee  was  appointed  and  clothed  with  omniscient  and  om- 
nipotent powers,  there  being  no  declivity  to  it. 

(450) 


THE   EXPENSIVE   WORD. 


451 


We  had  a  self-made  lawyer  at  one  time  in  the  northern  part  of  the  State 
who  would  rather  find  a  seventy -five  cent  word  and  use  it  in   a  speech  where 


He  was  more  fatal  to 


it  did   not  belong  than   to  eat   a  good   square  meal, 
the  King's  English  than  O' Dynamite  Rossa.     One  day 
he  was  telling  how  methodical  one  of  the  county  offi- 
cials was. 

"Why,"  said  he,  "I  never  saw  a  man  do  so  much 
and  do  it  so  easy.  But  the  secret  of  it  is  plain  enough. 
You  see,  he  has  a  regular  rotunda  of  business  every 
day." 

If  he  meant  anything,  I  suppose  he  meant  a  rou- 
tine of  business,  but  a  man  would  have  to  be  a  mind 
reader  to  follow  him  some  days  when  he  had  about  six 
fingers  of  cough  medicine  aboard  and  began  to  paw 
around  in  the  dark  and  musty  garret  of  his  memory 
for  moth-eaten  words  that  didn't  mean  anything. 

A  neighbor  of  mine  went  to  Washington  during 
the  Guiteau  trial  and  has  been  telling  us  about  it  ever 
since.  He  is  one  of  those  people  who  don't  want  to  be 
close  and  stingy  about  what  they  know.  He  likes  to 
go  through  life  shedding  information  right  and  left. 
He  likes  to  get  a  crowd  around  him  and  then  tell  how 
he  was  in  Washington  at  the  time  of  the  "})ost  mortise 
examination."  "Boys,  you  may  talk  all  your  a  mind  to,  but  the  greatest  thing 
I  saw  in  Washington,"  said  he,  "was  Dr.  Mary  Walker  on  the  street  every 
morning  riding  one  of  these  philosophers." 

He  painted  the  top  of  his  fence  green,  last  year,  so  it  would  "kind  of  com- 
binate  with  his  blinds." 

If  he  would  make  his  big  words  "  combinate  "  with  what  he  means  a  little 
better,  he  would  not  attract  so  much  attention.  But  he  don't  care.  He  hates 
to  see  a  big,  fat  word  loafing  around  with  nothing  to  do,  so  he  throws  one  in 
occasionally  for  exercise,  I  guess. 

In  the  Minnesota  legislature,  in  1867,  they  had  under  discussion  a  bill  to 
increase  the  per  diem  of  members  from  three  dollars  to  five  dollars.  A  mem- 
ber of  the  lower  house,  who  voted  for  the  measure,  was  hauled  over  the  coals  by 
one  of  his  constituents  and  charged  with  corruption  in  no  unmeasured  terms. 


HE    PAINTED   THE 
FENCE  GREEN. 


452  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

To  all  this  tlie  legislator  calmly  answered  that  when  he  got  down  to  the  capital 
and  found  out  the  awful  price  of  board,  he  concluded  that  his  "per  diadem" 
ought  to  be  increased,  and  so  he  supported  the  measure.  Then  the  belliger- 
ent constituent  said: 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  and  acquit  you  of  all  charges  of  corruption,  for  a  leg- 
islator who  does  not  know  the  difference  between  a  crown  of  glory  and  the  price 
of  a  day's  work  is  too  big  a  blankety  blanked  fool  to  be  convicted  of  an  inten- 
tional wrong." 


p(?tti(;oats  at  {\)(^  polls. 

'HERE  have  been  many  reasons  given,  first  and  last,  why  women  should 
not  vote,  but  I  desire  to  say,  in  the  full  light  of  a  ripe  experience,  that 
some  of  them  are  fallacious.  I  refer  more  particularly  to  the  argu- 
'^''  ment  that  it  will  degrade  women  to  go  to  the  polls  and  vote  like  a 
little  man.  While  I  am  not  and  have  never  been  a  howler  for  female  suffrage, 
I  must  admit  that  it  is  much  more  of  a  success  than  prohibition  and  specula- 
tive science. 

My  wife  voted  eight  years  with  my  full  knowledge  and  consent,  and  to-day 
I  cannot  see  but  that  she  is  as  docile  and  as  tractable  as  when  she  won  my 
trusting  heart. 

Now  those  who  know  me  best  will  admit  that  I  am  not  a  ladies'  man,  and, 
therefore,  what  I  may  say  here  is  not  said  to  secure  favor  and  grateful  smiles. 
I  am  not  attractive  and  I  am  not  in  politics.  I  believe  that  I  am  homelier  this 
winter  than  usual.  There  are  reasons  why  I  believe  that  what  I  may  say  on 
this  subject  will  be  sincere  and  not  sensational  or  selfish. 

It  has  been  urged  that  good  women  do  not  generally  exercise  the  right  of 
suffrage,  when  they  have  the  opportunity,  and  that  only  those  whose  social 
record  has  been  tarnished  a  good  deal  go  to  the  polls.     This  is  not  true. 

It  is  the  truth  that  a  good  full  vote  always  shows  a  list  of  the  best  women 
and  the  wives  of  the  best  men.  A  bright  day  makes  a  better  showing  of  lady 
voters  than  a  bad  one,  aild  the  weather  makes  a  more  perceptible  difference  in 
the  female  vote  than  the  male,  but  when  things  are  exciting  and  the  l^attle  is 
red-hot,  and  the  tocsin  of  war  sounds  anon,  the  wife  and  mother  puts  on  her 
armor  and  her  sealskin  sacque  and  knocks  things  cross-eyed. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  the  female  voter  is  a  pantaloonatic,  a  half 
horse,  half  alligator  kind  of  Avoman,  who  looks  like  Dr.  Mary  Walker  and  has 
the  appearance  of  one  who  has  risen  hastily  in  the  night  at  the  alarm  of  fire 
and  dressed  herself  partially  in  her  own  garments  and  partially  in  her  hus- 

(453) 


454  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

band's.  This  is  a  popular  error.  In  "Wyoming,  wliere  female  sufPrage  lias 
raged  for  years,  you  meet  quiet,  courteous  and  gallant  gentlemen,  and  fair, 
quiet,  sensible  women  at  the  polls,  where  there  isn't  a  loud  or  profane  word, 
and  where  it  is  an  infinitely  more  proper  place  to  send  a  young  lady  unes- 
corted than  to  the  postoffice  in  any  city  in  the  Union.  You  can  readily  see 
why  this  is  so.  The  men  about  the  polls  are  always  candidates  and  their 
friends.  That  is  the  reason  that  neither  party  can  afford  to  show  the  slightest 
rudeness  toward  a  voter.  The  man  who  on  Wednesday  would  tell  her  to  go 
and  soak  her  head,  perhaps,  would  stand  bareheaded  to  let  her  pass  on  Tues- 
day. While  she  holds  a  smashed  ballot  shoved  under  the  palm  of  her  gray 
kid  glove  she  may  walk  over  the  candidate's  prostrate  form  with  impunity  and 
her  overshoes  if  she  chooses  to. 

Weeks  and  months  before  election  in  Wyoming,  the  party  with  the  longest 
purse  subsidizes  the  most  livery  stables  and  carriages.  Then,  on  the  eventful 
day,  every  conveyance  available  is  decorated  with  a  political  placard  and  driven 
by  a  polite  young  man  who  is  instructed  to  improve  the  time.  Thus  every 
woman  in  Wyoming  has  a  chance  to  ride  once  a  year,  at  least.  Lately,  how- 
ever, many  prefer  to  walk  to  the  polls,  and  they  go  in  pairs,  trios  and 
quartettes,  voting  their  little  sentiments  and  calmly  returning  to  their  cookies 
and  crazy  quilts  as  though  politics  didn't  jar  their  mental  poise  a  minute. 

It  is  possible,  and  even  probable,  that  a  man  and  his  wife  may  disagree  on 
politics  as  they  might  on  religion.  The  husband  may  believe  in  Andrew  Jack- 
son and  a  relentless  hell,  while  his  wife  may  be  a  stalwart  and  rather  liberal 
on  the  question  of  eternal  punishment.  If  the  husband  manages  his  wife  as 
he  would  a  clothes-wi-inger,  and  turns  her  through  life  by  a  crank,  he  will,  no 
doubt,  work  her  politically ;  but  if  she  has  her  own  ideas  about  things,  she  will 
naturally  act  upon  them,  while  the  man  who  is  henpecked  in  other  matters  till 
he  can't  see  out  of  his  eyes,  will  be  henpecked,  no  doubt,  in  the  matter  of  national 
and  local  politics. 

These  are  a  few  facts  about  the  actual  workings  of  female  suffrage,  and  I 
do  not  tackle  the  great  question  of  the  ultimate  results  upon  the  political  ma- 
chinery if  woman  suffrage  were  to  become  general.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  as 
to  that.  I  know  a  great  deal,  but  I  do  not  know  that.  There  are  millions  of 
women,  no  doubt,  who  are  better  qualified  to  vote,  and  yet  cannot,  than  mil- 
lions of  alleged  men  who  do  vote ;  but  no  one  can  tell  now  what  the  ultimate 
effect  of  a  change  might  be. 


PETTICOATS  AT  THE  POLLS.  455 

So  far  as  "Wyoming  is  concerned,  the  Territory  is  prosperous  and  iiappy. 
I  see,  also,  that  a  murderer  was  hung  by  process  of  kiw  there  the  other  day. 
That  looks  like  the  onward  march  of  reform,  whether  female  suffrage  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  it  or  not.  And  they're  going  to  hang  another  in  March  if 
the  weather  is  favorable  and  executive  clemency  remains  dormant,  as  I  think 
it  will. 

All  these  things  look  hopeful.  We  can't  tell  what  the  Territory  would 
have  been  without  female  suffrage,  but  when  they  begin  to  hang  men  by  law 
instead  of  by  moonlight,  the  future  begins  to  brighten  up.  When  you  have 
to  get  up  in  the  night  to  hang  a  man  every  little  while  and  don't  get  any  per 
diem  for  it,  you  feel  as  though  you  were  a  good  way  fi'om  home. 


Jf^e  Sedentary  ]\er). 

'HOUGH  generally  cheerful  and  content  with  her  lot,  the  hen  at  times 

becomes  moody,   sullen  and  taciturn.      We  are   often   called  upon   to 

^$  .  '      notice  and  profit  by  the  genial  and  sunny  disposition  of  the  hen,    and 

""e"       yet  there  are  times  in  her  life  when  she  is  morose,  cynical,  and  the  prey 

of  consuming  melancholy.     At  such  times  not  only  her  own  companions,   but 

man  himself  shuns  the  hen. 

At  first  she  seems  to  be  preoccupied  only.  She  starts  and  turns  pale  when 
suddeidy  spoken  to.  Then  she  leaves  her  companions  and  seems  to  be  the 
victim  of  hypochondria.  Then  her  mind  wanders.  At  last  you  come  upon 
her  suddenly  some  day,  seated  under  the  currant  bushes.  You  sympathize  with 
her  and  you  seek  to  fondle  her.  She  then  picks  a  small  memento  out  of  the 
back  of  your  hand.  You  then  gently  but  firmly  coax  her  out  of  there  with  a 
hoe,  and  you  find  that  slie  has  been  seated  for  some  time  on  an  old  croquet 
ball,  trying  to  hatch  out  a  whole  set  of  croquet  balls.  This  shows  that  her 
mind  is  affected.  You  pick  up  the  croquet  ball,  and  find  it  hot  and  feverish, 
so  you  throw  it  into  the  shade  of  the  woodshed.  Anon,  you  find  your  demented 
hen  in  tlie  loft  of  the  barn  hovering  over  a  door  knob  and  trying  by  patience 
and  industry  to  hatch  out  a  hotel. 

When  a  hen  imagines  that  she  is  inspired  to  incubate,  she  at  once  ceases 
to  be  an  ornament  to  society  and  becomes  a  crank.  She  violates  all  the  laws 
and  customs  of  nature  and  society  in  trying  to  hatch  a  conservatory  by  setting 
through  the  long  days  and  nights  of  summer  on  a  small  flower  pot. 

Man  may  win  the  affections  of  the  tiger,  the  lion,  or  the  huge  elephant, 
and  make  them  subservient  to  his  wishes,  but  the  setting  hen  is  not  susceptible 
to  affection.  You  might  as  well  love  the  Manitoba  blizzard  or  try  to  quell  the 
cyclone  by  looking  calmly  in  its  eye.  The  setting  hen  is  filled  with  hatred  for 
every  living  thing.  She  loves  to  brood  over  her  wrongs  or  anything  else  she 
can  find  to  squat  on. 

I  once  owned  a  hen  that  made  a  specialty  of  setting.  She  never  ceased  to 
be  the  proud  anonymous  author  of  a  new,  warm  Qg^,  but  she  yearned  to  be  a 

(450) 


THE    SEDENTARY    HEN 


457 


parent.  She  therefore  seated  nerself  on  a  nest  where  other  hens  were  in  tlie 
habit  of  leaving  their  handiwork  for  inspection.  She  remained  there  during 
the  summer  hatching  steadily  on  while  the  others  laid,  until  she  filled  my 
barnyard  with  little  orphaned  henlets  of  different  ages.  She  remained  there 
night  and  day,  patiently  turning  out  poultry  for  me  to  be  a  father   to.     I 

brought    up   on   the  bottle  about   one 

hundred    that    summer  that   had   been 

-  ^"'^^^^^^^    "~"^    f  (' /y  1    Ij  turned  out  ])y   this   morbidly   maternal 

I  -tf^vv^  /' ^'  t/a      ,J,  hen.     All  she  seemed  to  ask  iji  return 

was  my  kind  regards  and  esteem.  I 
fed  her  upon  the  nest  and  humored  her 
in  every  way.  Every  day  she  became 
a  parent,  and  every  day  added  to  my 
responsibility. 

One  day  I  noticed  that  she  seemed 
weak  and  there  was  a  far  away  look  in 
her  eye.  For  the  first  time  the  hor- 
rible truth  burst  upon  my  mind.  I 
buried  my  face  in  the  haymow  and  I 
am  not  ashamed  to  say  that  I  wept. 
Strong  man  as  I  am,  I  am  not  too  proud 
to  say  that   I  soaked  that  haymow  through  with  unavailing  tears. 

My  hen  was  dying  even  then.  Her  breath  came  hot  and  quick  like  the 
swift  rush  of  a  hot  ball  that  caves  in  the  short-stop  and  speeds  away  to  center- 
field. 

The  next  morning  one  hundred  chickens  of  various  sizes  were  motherless, 
and  if  anything  had  happened  to  me  they  would  have  been  fatherless. 

For  many  years  I  have  made  a  close  study  of  tlie  setting  hen,  but  I  am 
still  unsettled  as  to  what  is  best  to  do  with  her.  She  is  a  freak  of  nature,  a 
disagreeable  anomaly,  a  fussy  phenomenon.  Logic,  rhetoric  and  metaphor  are 
all  alike  to  the  setting  hen.  You  might  as  well  go  down  into  the  bosom  of 
Vesuvius  and  ask  it  to  postpone  the  next  eruption. 


SUCCESS    WITH    CHICKENS. 


f\  Bri(^t^t  pdture  for  pu(^ilis/T\. 

\frvr /HE  recent  prominence  of  Mr.  John  E.  Dempsey,  better  known  as  Jack 
-^  ^  Dempsey,  of  New  York,  brings  to  mind  a  four  days'  trip  taken  in  liis 
o^  J,  .  /  company  from  Portland,  Oregon,  to  St.  Paul,  over  the  Northern  Pacific. 
^  There  were  three  pugilists  in  the  party  besides  myself,  viz,  Demp- 

sey, Dave  Campbell  and  Tom  Cleary.  We  made  a  grand,  triumphant  tour 
across  the  country  together,  and  I  may  truthfully  state  that  I  never  felt  so  free 
to  say  anything  I  wanted  to — to  other  passengers — as  I  did  at  that  time.  I 
wish  I  could  afford  to  take  at  least  one  pugilist  with  me  all  the  time.  In  trav- 
eling about  the  country  lecturing,  a  good  pugilist  would  be  of  great  assistance. 
I  would  like  to  set  him  on  the  man  who  always  asks:  "  Where  do  you  go  to  from 
here,  Mr.  Nye?"  He  does  not  ask  because  he  wants  to  know,  for  the  next  mo- 
ment he  asks  right  over  again.  I  do  not  know  why  he  asks,  but  surely  it  is 
not  for  the  purpose  of  finding  out. 

Well,  throughout  our  long  journey  across  the  State  of  Oregon  and  the  Ter- 
ritories of  Idaho,  Montana  and  Dakota,  and  the  State  of  Minnesota,  it  was  one 
continual  ovation.  Dempsey  had  a  world-wide  reputation,  I  found,  co-exten- 
sive with  the  horizon,  as  I  may  say,  and  bounded  only  by  the  zodiac. 

In  my  great  forthcoming  work,  entitled  "Half-Hours  with  Great  Men,  or 
Eminent  People  Which  I  Have  Saw,"  I  shall  give  a  fuller  description  of  this 
journey.      The  book  will  be  a  great  boon. 

Mr.  Dempsey  is  not  a  man  who  would  be  picked  out  as  a  great  man.  You 
might  pass  by  him  two  or  three  times  without  recognizing  his  eminence,  and 
yet,  at  a  scrapping  matinee  or  swatting  recital,  he  seems  to  hold  his  audiences 
at  his  own  sweet  will — also  his  antagonist. 

Mr.  Dempsey  does  not  crave  notoriety.  He  seems  rather  to  court  seclu- 
sion. This  is  characteristic  of  the  man.  See  how  he  walked  around  all  over 
the  State  of  New  York  last  week — in  the  night,  too — in  order  to  evade  the 
crowd. 

(458) 


A   BRIGHT    FUTURE   FOR    PUGILISM.  459 

His  logic,  however,  is  wonderful.  Though  quiet  and  unassuming  in  his 
manner,  his  arguments  are  powerful  and  generally  make  a  large  protuberance 
wherever  they  alight. 

Nothing  is  more  pleasing  than  the  sight  of  a  man  who  has  risen  by  his  own 
unaided  effort,  fought  liis  way  up,  as  it  were,  and  yet  who  is  not  vain.  Mr. 
Dempsey  conversed  with  me  frequently  during  our  journey,  and  did  not  seem 
to  feel  above  me. 

I  opened  the  conversation  by  telling  him  that  I  had  seen  a  number  of  his 
works.  Nothing  pleases  a  young  author  so  much  as  a  little  friendly  remark  in 
relation  to  his  work.  I  had  seen  a  study  of  his  one  day  in  New  York  last 
spring.     It  was  an  italic  nose  with  quotation  marks  on  each  side. 

It  was  a  very  happy  little  bon  mot  on  Mr.  Dempsey' s  part,  and  attracted  a 
good  deal  of  notice  at  the  time. 

Mr.  Demj)sey  is  not  a  college  graduate,  as  many  suppose.  He  is  a  self- 
made  man.  This  should  be  a  great  encouragement  to  our  boys  who  are  now 
unknown,  and  whose  portraits  have  not  as  yet  appeared  in  the  sporting  papers. 

But  Mr.  Dempsey's  great  force  as  a  debater  is  less,  perhaps,  in  the  matter 
than  in  the  manner.  His  delivery  is  good  and  his  gestures  cannot  fail  to  con- 
vince the  most  skeptical.  Striking  in  appearance,  aggressive  in  his  nature, 
and  happy  in  his  gestures,  he  is  certain  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  police, 
and  he  cannot  fail  to  rivet  the  eye  of  his  adversary.  I  saw  one  of  his  adver- 
saries, not  long  ago,  whose  eye  had  been  successfully  riveted  in  that  way. 

And  yet,  John  E.  Dempsey  was  once  a  poor  boy.  He  had  none  of  the  ad- 
vantages which  wealth  and  position  bring.  But,  confident  of  his  latent  ability 
as  a  middle-weight  convincer,  he  toiled  on,  ever  on,  sitting  up  until  long  after 
other  people  had  gone  to  bed,  patiently  knocking  out  those  who  might  be 
brought  to  him  for  that  purj)ose.  He  never  hung  back  because  the  way  looked 
long  and  lonely.  And  what  is  the  result?  To-day,  in  the  full  vigor  of  man- 
hood, he  is  sought  out  and  petted  by  everyone  who  takes  an  interest  in  the 
onward  march  of  pugilism. 

It  is  a  wonderful  record,  though  brief.  It  shows  what  patient  industry 
will  accomplish  unaided.  Had  John  E.  Dempsey  hesitated  to  enter  the  ring 
and  said  that  he  would  rather  go  to  school,  where  he  would  be  safe,  he  might 
to-day  be  an  educated  man ;  but  what  does  that  amount  to  here  in  America, 
where  everybody  can  have  an  education?  He  would  have  lost  his  talent  as  a 
slugger,   and  drifted  steadily  downward,  perhaps,  till  he  became    a   school- 


460  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

teacher  or  a  narrow-chested  editor,  writing  things  day  after  day  just  to  gratify 
the  morbid  curiosity  of  a  sin -cursed  world. 

In  closing,  I  would  like  to  say  that  I  hope  I  have  not  expressed  an  opinion 
in  the  above  that  may  hereafter  be  used  against  me.  Do  not  understand  me 
to  be  the  foe  of  education.  Education  and  refinement  are  good  enough  in 
their  places,  but  how  shall  Ave  attract  attention  by  trying  to  become  refined 
and  educated  in  a  land  where,  as  I  say,  education  and  refinement  seem  almost 
to  run  rampant. 

Heretofore,  in  America,  pugilism  has  been  made  subservient  to  the  common 
schools.  Pugilism  and  polygamy  have  both  been  crowded  to  the  wall.  Noav 
pugilism  is  about  to  assert  itself.  The  tin  ear  and  the  gory  nose  will  soon 
come  to  the  front,  and  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  progressive  pugilism 
and  the  prize-ring  will  take  the  place  of  the  poorly  ventilated  common  school 
and  the  enervating  prayer  meeting. 


E\)e  S>r)a\e  Ipdiai). 


^'rT^/HEEE   are  about  5,000  Snake  or  Shoshone  Indians   now   extant,    the 
^'^  i|  nVi^    greater  part  being  in  Utah  and  Nevada,  though  there  is  a  reservation 
-'"'^jl^j     in  Idaho  and  another  in  Wyoming. 

^  The  Shoshone  Indian  is  reluctant  to  accept  of  civilization  on  tlie 

European  plan.  He  prefers  the  ruder  customs  which  have  been  handed  down 
from  father  to  son  along  with  other  hairlooms.  I  use  the  word  hairlooms  in 
its  broadest  sense. 

There  are  the  Shoshones  proper  and  the  Utes  or  Utahs,  to  which  have  been 
added  by  some  authorities  the  Com- 
anclies,  and  Moquis  of  New  Mexico  and 
Arizona,  the  Netelas  and  other  tribes  of 
California.  The  Shoshone,  wherever 
found,  is  clothed  in  buckskin  and 
blanket  in  winter,  but  dressed  more 
lightly  in  summer,  wearing  nothing  but 
an  air  of  intense  gloom  in  August.  To 
this  he  adds  on  holidays  a  necklace 
made  from  the  store  teeth  of  the  hardy 
pioneer. 

The  Snake  or  Shoshone  Indian  is 
passionately  fond  of  the  game  known  as 
poker  among  us,  and  which,  I  learn,  is 
played  with  cards.  It  is  a  game  of  chance,  though  skill  and  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  firearms  are  of  great  use.  The  Indians  enter  into  this  game 
with  great  zeal,  and  lend  to  it  the  wonderful  energy  which  they  have  pre- 
served from  year  to  year  by  abstaining  from  the  debilitating  effects  of  manual 
labor.  All  day  long  the  red  warrior  sits  in  his  skin  boudoir,  nursing  the 
sickly  and  reluctant  "flush,"  patient,  silent  and  hopeful.  Through  the  cold  of 
winter,  in  the  desolate  mountains,  he  continues  to 

"  Hope  on,  hope  ever," 

(461) 


HOLIDAY   COSTUME. 


402 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


That  he  will  "draw  to  fill."  Far  away  up  the  canyon  he  hears  the  sturdy 
blows  of  his  wife's  tomahawk  as  she  slaujjfhters  the  jjroase  Avood  and  the  sa^^e 
brush  for  the  fii'S  in  his  gilded  hell  where  he  sits  and  woos  the  lazy  Goddess 
of  Fortune. 

AYitli  the  Shoshone,  poker  is  not  alone  a  relaxation,  the  game  wherewith  to 

wear  out  a  long  and  listless  evening,  but  it  is  a  passion,  a  duty  and  a  devotion. 

■     I       He  has   a  face  designed  especially  for  poker.     It 

_\  .'  I '       never  shows  a  sign  of  good  or  evil   fortune.     You 

\  I  \ I   might  as  well  try  to  win  a  smile  from  a  railroad 

right   of  way.     The    full    hand,  the    fours,  threes, 

pairs  and  bob-tail  flushes  are  all  the  same  to  him,  if 

you  judge  by  his  face. 

When  he  gets  hungry  he  cinches  himself  a  little 
tighter  and  continues  to  "rastle"  with  fate.  You  look 
at  his  smoky,  old  copper  cent  of  a  face,  and  you  see 
no  change.  You  watch  him  as  he  coins  the  last 
buckshot  of  his  tribe  and  later  on  when  he  goes 
forth  a  pauper,  and  the  corners  of  his  famine-breed- 
ing mouth  have  never  moved.  His  little  black,  smoke- 
inflamed  eyes  have  never  lighted  with  triumph  or 
joy.  He  is  the  great  aboriginal  stoic  and  sylvan 
dude.  He  does  not  smile.  He  does  not  weep.  It 
certainly  must  be  intensely  pleasant  to  be  a  wild,  free, 
lawless,  irresponsible,  natural  born  fool. 
The  Shoshones  proper  include  the  Bannocks,  which  are  again  subdivided 
into  the  Koolsitakara  or  Buffalo  Eaters,  on  Wind  Eiver,  the  Tookarika  or 
Mountain  Sheep  Eaters,  on  Salmon  or  Suabe  Rivers,  the  Shoshocas  or  White 
Knives,  sometimes  called  Diggers,  of  the  Humbolt  River  and  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  basin.  Probably  the  Hokandikahs,  Yahooskins  and  the  Wahlpapes  are 
subdivisions  of  the  Digger  tribe.  I  am  not  sure  of  this,  but  I  shall  not  sus- 
pend my  business  till  I  can  find  out  about  it.  If  I  cannot  get  at  a  great  truth 
right  off  I  wait  patiently  and  go  right  on  drawing  my  salary. 

The  Shoshones  live  on  the  government  and  other  small  game.  They  will 
eat  anything  when  hungry,  from  a  buffalo  down  to  a  woodtick.  The  Shoshone 
does  not  despise  small  things.  He  loves  insects  in  any  form.  He  loves  to 
make  pets  of  them  and  to  study  their  habits  in  his  home  life. 


GOING  AWAY  BROKE. 


THE    SNAKE    INDIAN. 


463 


Formerly,  when  a  great  Sliosliouo  warrior  died,  tliey  killed  his  favorite 
wife  over  his  grave,  so  that  she  could  go  to  the  hapi)y  hunting  grounds  with 
him,  but  it  is  not  so  customary  now.  I  tried  to  impress  on  an  old  Shoshone 
brave  once  that  they  ought  not  to  do  that.  I  tried  to  show  him  that  it  would 
encourage  celibacy  and  destroy  domestic  ties  in  his  tribe.     Since  then  there 


THE  HOME  CIECLE, 


has  been  quite  a  stride  toward  reform  among  them.  Instead  of  killing  the 
widow  on  the  death  of  the  husband,  the  husband  takes  such  good  care  of  his 
health  and  avoids  all  kinds  of  intellectual  strain  or  physical  fatigue,  that  late 
years  there  are  no  widows,  but  widowers  just  seem  to  swarm  in  the  Shoshone 
tribe.     The  woods  are  full  of  them. 

Now,  if  they  would  only  kill  the  widower  over  the  grave  of  the  wife,  the 
Indian's  future  would  assume  a  more  definite  shape. 


I^oller  5K3ti9^. 


HAVE  once  more  tried  to  ride  a  pair  of  roller  skates.  That  is  the  reason 
I  irot  down  on  the  rink  and  down  on  roller  skates.  That  is  the  reason 
several  people  got  down  on  me.  That  is  also  the  reason  why  I  now  state 
^  in  a  pnblic  manner,  to  a  lost  and  undone  race,  that  unless  the  roller-rink  is 
at  once  abolished,  the  whole  civilized  race  will  at  once  be  plunged  into  arnica. 

I  had  tried  it  once  before,  but  had  not  carried  my  experiments  to  a  suc- 
cessful termination.  I  made  a  trip  around  the  rink  last  August,  but  was  ruled 
out  by  the  judges  for  incompetency,  and  advised  to  skate  among  the  people 
who  were  hostile  to  the  government  of  the  United  States,  while  the  proprietors 
repaired  the  rink. 

On  the  9th  of  June  I  nestled  in  the  bosom  of  a  cyclone  to  excess,  and  it 
has  required  the  bulk  of  the  succeeding  months  for  nature  to  glue  the  bone  of 
my  leg  together  in  proper  shape.  That  is  the  reason  I  have  not  given  the 
attention  to  roller-skating  that  I  should. 

A  few  weeks  ago  I  read  what  Mr.  Talmage  said  about  the  great  national 
vice.  It  was  his  opinion  that,  if  we  skated  in  a  proper  spirit,  we  could  leave 
the  rink  each  evening  with  our  immortal  souls  in  good  shape. 

Somehow  it  got  out  that  on  Thursday  evening  I  would  undertake  the  feat 
of  skating  three  rounds  in  three  hours  with  no  protection  to  my  scruples,  for  one- 
half  the  gate  money,  Talmage  rules.  So  there  was  quite  a  large  audience 
present  with  opera  glasses.  Some  had  umbrellas,  especially  on  the  front  rows. 
These  were  worn  spread,  in  order  to  ward  off  fragments  of  the  rink  which 
might  become  disengaged  and  set  in  motion  by  atmospheric  disturbances. 

In  obedience  to  a  wild,  Wagnerian  snort  from  the  orchestra,  I  came  into 
the  arena  with  my  skates  in  hand.  I  feel  perfectly  at  home  before  an  audi- 
ence when  I  have  my  skates  in  hand.  It  is  a  morbid  desire  to  wear  the  skates 
on  my  feet  that  has  always  been  my  hete  noire.  Will  the  office  boy  please 
give  me  a  brass  check  for  that  word  so  that  I  can  get  it  when  I  go  away  ? 

My  first  thought,  after  getting  myself  secured  to  the  skates,  was  this: 
"Am  I  in  the  proper  frame  of  mind?     Am  I  doing  this  in  the  right  spirit? 

(464) 


KOLLElt    SKATING.  465 

Am  I  about  to  skate  in  sucli  a  way  as  to  lift  the  fog  of  unbelief  which  now 
envelopes  a  sinful  world,  or  shall  I  deepen  the  opaque  night  in  which  my  race 
is  wrapped?" 

Just  then  that  end  of  the  rink  erupted  in  a  manner  so  forthwith  and  so 
font  ensemble  that  I  had  to  push  it  back  in  place  with  my  person.  I  never  saw 
anything  done  with  less  delay  or  less  languor. 

The  audience  went  wild  with  enthusiasm,  and  I  responded  to  the  encore  by 
writing  my  name  in  the  air  with  my  skates. 

This  closed  the  first  seance,  and  my  trainer  took  me  in  the  dressing-room 
to  attend  a  consultation  of  physicians.  After  the  rink  carpenter  had  jacked 
up  the  floor  a  little  I  went  out  again.  I  had  no  fears  about  my  ability  to  per- 
form the  mechanical  part  assigned  me,  but  I  was  still  worried  over  the  ques- 
tion of  whether  it  would  or  would  not  be  of  lasting  benefit  to  mankind. 

Those  who  have  closely  scrutinized  my  frame  in  repose  have  admitted  that 
I  am  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made.  Students  of  the  human  frame  say  that 
they  never  saw  such  a  wealth  of  looseness  and  limberness  lavished  upon  one 
person.  They  claim  that  nature  bestowed  upon  me  the  hinges  and  joints 
intended  for  a  whole  family,  and  therefore  when  I  skate  the  air  seems  to  be 
perfectly  lurid  with  limbs.  I  presume  that  this  is  true ;  though  I  have  so  lit- 
tle leisure  while  skating  in  which  to  observe  the  method  itself,  the  plot  or 
animus  of  the  thing,  as  it  were,  that  my  opinion  would  be  of  little  value  to 
the  scientist. 

I  am  led  to  believe  that  the  roller  skate  is  certainly  a  great  civilizer  and  a 
wonderful  leveler  of  mankind.  If  we  so  skate  that  when  the  summons  comes 
to  seek  our  ward  in  the  general  hospital,  where  each  shall  heal  his  busted 
cuticle  within  the  walls  where  rinkists  squirm,  we  go  not  like  tiie  moral  wreck, 
morally  paralyzed,  but  like  a  hired  man  taking  his  medicine,  and  so  forth — we 
may  skate  with  perfect  impunity,  or  anyone  else  to  whom  we  may  be 
properly  introduced  by  our  cook. 


jNio  /r\or<?  pro9ti<^r. 


|HE  system  of  building  railroads  into 
the  wilderness,  and  then  allowincr 
the  wilderness  to  develop  afterward, 
has  knocked  the  essential  joy  out  of 
the  life  of  the  pioneer.  At  one  time 
the  hardy  hewer  of  Avood  and  drawer 
of  water  gave  his  lifetime  willingly 
that  his  son  might  ride  in  the  "var- 
nished cars."  Now  the  Pullman 
palace  car  takes  the  New  Yorker  to 
the  threshold  of  the  sea,  or  to  the 
boundary  line  between  the  United 
States  and  the  British  possessions. 

It  has  driven  out  the  long  han- 
dled trying  pan  and  the  flapjack  of 
twenty  years  ago,  and  introduced 
the  condensed  milk  and  canned  fruit 
of  commerce.  Along  the  highways, 
where  once  the  hopeful  hundreds 
marched  with  long  handled  shovel 
and  pick  and  pan,  cooking  by  the 
way  thin  salt  pork  and  flapjacks  and 
slumgullion,  now  the  road  is  lined 
with  empty  beer  bottles  and  peach 
cans  that  have  outlived  their  useful- 
ness. No  landscape  can  be  picturesque  with  an  empty  peach  can  in  the  fore- 
ground any  more  than  a  lion  would  look  grand  in  a  red  monogram  horse  blanket 
and  false  teeth. 

The  modern  camp  is  not  the  camp  of  the  wilderness.     It  wears  the  half- 
civilized  and  shabby  genteel  garments  of  a  sawed-off  town.     You  know  that 

(466) 


NO   MORE   FRONTIER.  4G  7 

if  you  ride  a  day  you  will  be  where  you  can  get  the  daily  papers  and  read 
them  under  the  electric  light.  That  robs  the  old  canyons  of  their  solemn 
isolation  and  peoples  each  gulch  with  the  odor  of  codfish  balls  and  civiliza- 
tion.    Civilization  is  not  to  blame  for  all  this,  and  yet  it  seems  sad. 

Civilization  could  not  have  done  all  this  alone.  It  had  to  call  to  its  aid  the 
infernal  fruit  can  that  now  desolates  the  most  (:)l)scure  trail  in  the  heart  of  the 
mountains.  You  walk  over  chaos  Avhere  the  "hydraulic"  has  plowed  up  the 
valley  like  a  convulsion,  or  you  tread  the  yielding  path  across  the  deserted 
dump,  and  on  all  sides  the  rusty,  neglected  and  humiliated  empty  tin  can  stares 
at  you  with  its  monotonous,  dude-like  stare. 

An  old  timer  said  to  me  once:  "I've  about  decided.  Bill,  that  the  West  is 
a  matter  of  historv.  When  we  cooked  our  grub  over  a  sasre  brush  fire  we 
could  get  fat  and  fight  Indians,  but  now  we  fill  our  digesters  with  the  cold  ]:»izen 
and  pewter  of  the  canned  peach ;  we  go  to  a  big  tavern  and  stick  a  towel 
under  our  chins  and  eat  pie  with  a  fork  and  heat  up  our  carkisses  with  anti- 
christ coal,  and  what  do  we  amount  to?  Nuthin!  I  used  to  chase  Injuns  all 
day  and  eat  raw  salt  pork  at  night,  bekuz  I  dassent  build  a  fire,  and  still  I  felt 
better  than  I  do  now  with  a  wad  of  tin-can  solder  in  my  stummick  and  a  home- 
sick feeling  in  my  weather-beaten  breast. 

"No,  we  don't  have  the  fun  we  usetl  to.  We  have  more  swarrees  and  sciat- 
ica and  one  bloomin'  thing  and  another  of  that  kind,  but  we  don't  get  one 
snort  of  pure  air  and  appetite  in  a  year.  They're  bringin'  in  their  blamed 
telephones  now  and  malaria  and  aigue  and  old  sledge,  and  fun  might  as  well 
skip  out.  Tliere  ain't  no  frontier  any  more.  All  we've  got  left  is  the  old- 
fashioned  trantler  joos  and  rhumatiz  of  '49." 

jBehind  the  red  squaw's  cay  use  plug, 

The  hand-car  roars  and  raves, 
And  pie-plant  pies  are  now  liroduced 

Above  the  Indian  graves. 
I  hear  the  oaths  of  pioneers, 

The  caucus  yet  to  be. 
The  first  low  hum  where  soon  will  come 

The  fuzzy  bumble  bee. 


f\  l^etter  of  I^e(^ret5. 

■}jY  DEAR  PEINCESS  BEATEICE.— I  received  your  kind  invita- 
V  tion  to  come  up  to  Whippingliam  on  the  23d  inst.  and  see  you  mar- 
^  ried,  but  I  have  not  been  able  to  get  there.  The  weather  has  been 
so  hot  this  month,  that,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Beatrice,  I  haven't 
been  going  anywhere  to  speak  of.  At  first  I  thought  I  would  go  anyhow,  and 
even  went  so  far  as  to  pick  out  a  nice  corner  bracket  to  take  along  for  a  wed- 
ding present.  Not  so  much  for  its  intrinsic  value,  of  course,  but  so  you  would 
have  something  with  my  name  to  it  on  a  card  that  you  could  show  to  those 
English  dudes,  and  let  them  know  that  you  had  influential  friends,  even  in 
America.  But  when  I  thought  what  a  long,  hard  trip  it  Avould  be,  and  how  I 
would  probably  mash  that  bracket  on  the  cars  before  I  got  half  way  there,  I 
gave  it  up. 

I  am  not  personally  acquainted  with  your  inamorato,  if  that's  all  right, 
never  having  met  him  in  our  set;  but  I  understand  you  have  done  well,  and 
that  your  husband  is  a  rising  young  man  of  good  family,  and  that  he  will 
never  allow  you  to  put  your  hands  into  dishwater.  I  hope  this  is  true  and  that 
he  does  not  drink.  Rum  has  certainly  paralyzed  more  dukes  and  such  things 
than  war  has.  I  attribute  this  to  the  fact  that  princes  and  dukes  are  generally 
more  reckless  about  exposing  themselves  to  the  demon  rum  than  to  the  rude 
alarums  and  one  thing  another  of  war. 

If  you  keep  a  girl  I  hope  you  will  get  a  good  one  who  knows  her  business. 
A  green  girl  in  the  house  of  a  newly-married  princess  is  a  great  source  of  an- 
noyance. A  friend  of  mine  who  got  married  last  winter  got  a  girl  whose  mind 
had  been  eaten  by  cut-worms  and  she  had  not  discovered  it.  All  the  faculty 
that  had  been  spared  her  was  that  power  of  the  mind  which  enabled  her  to 
charge  ^3  a  week.  She  lubricated  the  buckwheat  pancake  griddle  for  a  week 
with  soap  grease  and  a  dash  of  castor  oil,  and  when  she  was  discharged  she 
wept  bitterly  because  capital  with  the  iron  heel  ground  the  poor  servant  girl 
into  the  dust. 

Probably  you  will  take  a  little  tour  after  the  wedding  is  over.  They  are 
doing  that  way  a  good  deal  in  Boston  this  season.     I  thought  you  would  like 

(468) 


A   LETTER    OF    REGRETS.  469 

a  pointer  in  the  very  lum-tumest  thing  to  do,  and  so  I  write  this.  So  long  as 
you  have  the  means  to  do  this  thing  right,  I  think  you  ought  to  do  so.  You 
may  never  be  married  again,  princess,  and  now  is  the  time  to  paint  the  British 
Isles  red. 

You  can  also  get  more  concessions  from  your  husband  now,  while  he  is  a 
little  rattled,  and  temporarily  knocked  silly  by  the  pomp  and  pageant  of  mar- 
rying into  your  family,  and  if  you  work  it  right  you  can  maintain  this  su- 
premacy for  years.  Treat  him  with  a  gentle  firmness,  and  do  not  weep  on  his 
bosom  if  you  detect  the  aroma  of  beer  and  bologna  sausage  on  his  young 
breath.  Bologna  and  royalty  do  not  seem  to  harmonize  first-rate,  but  remem- 
ber you  can  harass  your  husband  if  you  choose,  so  that  he  will  fall  to  even 
lower  depths  than  bologna  and  Milwaukee  beer.  Do  not  aggravate  him  when 
he  comes  home  tired,  but  help  him  do  the  chores  and  greet  him  with  a  smile. 

I'd  just  as  soon  tell  you,  Beatrice,  that  this  smile  racket  is  not  original 
with  me.  I  read  it  in  a  paper.  This  paper  went  on  to  say  that  a  young  wife 
should  always  greet  her  husband  with  a  smile  on  his  return.  I  showed  the 
article  to  my  wife  and  suggested  that  it  was  a  good  scheme,  and  hoped  she 
would  try  it  on  me  sometime.  She  said  if  I  would  like  to  change  off  awhile, 
and  take  my  smile  when  I  got  home  instead  of  taking  it  down  town,  we  would 
make  the  experiment.  The  trouble  with  the  average  woman  of  the  age  in 
which  we  live,  Beatrice,  is  that  she  is  above  her  business.  She  tries  to  be 
superior  to  her  husband,  and  in  many  instances  she  succeeds.  That  is  the 
bane  of  wedded  life.  Do  not  strive  to  be  superior  to  your  husband,  Beatrice. 
If  you  do,  it  is  good-bye,  John. 

Treat  him  well  at  all  times,  whether  he  treats  you  well  or  not;  then  when 
your  mother  gets  tired  of  reigning  and  wants  to  come  down  and  spend  the  hot 
weather  with  you,  she  will  be  kindly  greeted  by  her  son-in-law. 

Do  not  allow  the  fact  that  you  belong  to  the  royal  family  to  interfere  with 
your  fun,  Beatrice.  If  you  want  to  wear  a  Mother  Hubbard  dress  on  the 
throne  during  hot  weather,  or  mash  a  mosquito  Avith  your  mother's  sceptre, 
do  so.  Conventionality  is  a  humbug  and  a  nuisance,  and  I\l  just  as  soon  tell 
you  right  here  that  if  I  could  have  gone  to  your  wedding  and  worn  a  linen 
coat  and  a  perspiration,  I  would  have  gone ;  but  to  stand  around  there  all  day 
in  a  tight  black  suit  of  clothes,  in  a  mixed  crowd  of  dukes,  and  counts,  and 
princes  of  high  degree,  most  of  whom  are  total  strangers  to  me,  is  more  than 
I  can  stand. 


470 


REMAEKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


I  wish  you  would  give  my  love  to  your  motlier  and  tell  her  just  how  it 
was.  Make  it  as  smooth  as  you  can  and  break  it  to  her  gently.  Tell  her  that 
the  royal  family  is  spreading  out  so  that  I  can't  leave  my  work  every  time  one 
of  its  members  gets  married.  Eemember  me  to  the  Waleses,  the  Darmstadts, 
Princess  Irene  and  Victoria,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Prince  Alexander  of  Bulgaria,  also 
Prince  Francis  of  Battenberg  and  the  Countess  Erbach  Schomberg.  They 
will  all  be  there  probably,  and  so  will  Lord  Latham  and  Lord  Edgcumbe.  I 
know  just  how  Edgcumbe  Avill  snort  around  there  when  he  finds  that  I  can't 
be  there.  Give  my  kind  regards  to  any  other  lords,  dukes,  duchesses,  dowa- 
gers or  marchionesses  who  may  inquire  for  me,  and  tell  them  all  that  I  will 
be  in  London  next  year  if  the  Prince  of  AVales  will  drop  me  a  line  stating 
that  the  moral  tone  of  the  city  is  such  that  it  would  be  safe  for  me  to  come. 


l/epiee. 


^^Rj-^E  arrived  in  Venice  last  evening,  latitude  45  deg,  25  min.  N.,  longi- 
4tfliil    tude  12  deg.  19  min.  E. 

\]y  tiv  iPJ  Venice  is  the  home  of  the  Venetian,  and  also  where  the  gondola 

I'  ''■^P^^i  lias  its  nest  and  rears  its  young.  It  is  also  the  headquarters  for 
tlio  paint  known  as  Venetian  red,  Tliey  use  it  in  painting  the  town  on  festive 
occasions.  This  is  the  town  where  the  Merchant  of  Venice  used  to  do  busi- 
ness, and  the  home  of  Shylock,  a  broker,  who  sheared  the  Venetian  lamb  at 
the  corner  of  the  Kialto  and  the  Grand  Canal.  He  is  now  no  more.  I  couldn't 
even  find  an  old  neighbor  near  the  Kialto  who  remembered  Shylock.  From 
what  I  can  learn  of  him,  however,  I  am  led  to  believe  that  he  was  pretty  close 
in  his  deals,  and  liked  to  catch  a  man  in  a  tight  place  and  then  make  him 
squirm.  Shylock,  during  the  great  panic  in  Venice,  many  years  ago,  it  is  said, 
had  a  chattel  mortgage  on  more  lives  than  you  could  shake  a  stick  at.  He 
would  loan  a  small  amount  to  a  merchant  at  three  per  cent,  a  month,  and  se- 
cure it  on  a  pound  of  the  merchant's  liver,  or  by  a  cut-throat  mortgage  on  his 
respiratory  apparatus.  Then,  when  the  paper  matured,  he  would  go  up  to  the 
house  with  a  pair  of  scales  and  a  pie  knife  and  demand  a  foreclosure. 

Venice  is  one  of  the  best  watered  towns  in  Europe.  You  can  hardly  walk 
a  block  without  getting  your  feet  wet,  unless  you  ride  in  a  gondola. 

The  gondola  is  a  long,  slim  hack  without  wheels  and  is  worked  around 
through  the  damp  streets  by  a  brunette  man  whose  breath  should  be  a  sad 
warning  to  us  all.  He  is  called  the  gondolier.  Sometimes  he  sings  in  a  low 
tone  of  voice  and  in  a  foreign  tongue.  I  do  not  know  where  I  have  met  so 
many  foreigners  as  I  have  here  in  Europe,  unless  it  was  in  New  York,  at  the 
polls.  Wherever  I  go,  I  hear  a  foreign  tongue.  I  do  not  know  whether  these 
peo})le  talk  in  the  Italian  language  just  to  show  off  or  not.  Perhaps  they 
prefer  it.  London  is  the  only  place  I  have  visited  where  the  Boston  dialect 
is  used.  London  was  originally  settled  by  adventurers  from  Boston.  The 
blood  of  some  of  the  royal  families  of  Massachusetts  may  be  found  in  the  veins 

of  London  people. 

(*n) 


l._ 


472  IIEMAIIKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

"Wealthy  yoiing  ladies  in  Venice  do  not  run  away  with  the  coachman. 
There  are  no  coaches,  no  coachmen  and  no  horses  in  Venice.  There  are  only 
four  horses  in  Venice  and  they  are  made  of  copper  and  exhibited  at  St.  Mark's 
as  curiosities. 

The  Accademia  delle  Belle  Arti  of  Venice  is  a  large  picture  store  where  I 
went  yesterday  to  buy  a  few  pictures  for  Christmas  presents.  A  painting  by 
Titian,  the  Italian  Prang,  pleased  me  very  much,  but  I  couldn't  beat  down  the 
price  to  where  it  would  be  any  object  for  me  to  buy  it.  Besides,  it  would  be 
a  nuisance  to  carry  such  a  picture  around  with  me  all  over  the  Alps,  up  the 
Khine  and  through  St.  Lawrence  county.  I  finally  decided  to  leave  it  and  se- 
cure something  less  awkward  to  carry  and  pay  for. 

The  Italians  are  quite  proud  of  their  smoky  old  paintings.  I  have  often 
thought  that  if  Venice  would  run  less  to  art  and  more  to  soap,  she  would  be 
more  apt  to  win  my  respect.  Art  is  all  right  to  a  certain  extent,  but  it  can  be 
run  in  the  ground.  It  breaks  my  heart  to  know  how  lavish  nature  has  been 
with  water  here,  and  yet  how  the  Venetians  scorn  to  investigate  its  benefits. 
When  a  gondolier  gets  a  drop  of  water  on  him,  he  swoons.  Then  he  lies  in  a 
kind  of  coma  till  another  gondolier  comes  along  to  breathe  in  his  face  and  re- 
vive him. 


5f?e  \{\T)d  of  (^oaxed  |1im. 

NEVER  practiced  law  very  much,  hut  during  the  brief  period  that  my 
slieet-iroii  sign  was  kissed  by  the  Washoe  zephyr,  I  had  several  odd  ex- 
^H.  periences.  I'm  sure  that  lawyers  who  practice  for  forty  years,  especially 
"■^^  on  the  frontier  or  in  a  new  country,  could  write  a  large  book  that  would 
make  mighty  interesting  reading. 

One  day  I  was  figuring  up  how  much  a  man  could  save  in  ten  years,  pay- 
ing forty  dollars  a  month  rent,  and  taking  in  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  per 
month,  Avhen  a  large  man  with  a  sad  eye  and  an  early  purple  tumor  on  the  side 
of  his  head,  came  in  and  asked  me  if  my  name  was  Nye.  I  told  him  it  was 
and  asked  him  to  take  a  chair  and  spit  on  the  stove  a  few  times,  and  make  him- 
self entirely  at  home. 

He  did  so. 

After  answering  in  a  loud,  tremulous  tone  of  voice  that  we  were  havino- 
rather  a  backward  spring,  he  produced  a  red  cotton  handkerchief  and  took  out 
of  it  a  deed  which  he  submitted  to  my  ripe  and  logical  legal  mind. 

I  asked  him  if  that  was  his  name  that  appeared  in  the  body  of  the  deed  as 
grantor.  He  said  it  was.  I  then  asked  him  why  his  wife  had  not  signed  it, 
as  it  seemed  to  be  the  homestead,  and  her  name  appeared  in  the  instrument 
with  that  of  her  husband,  but  her  signature  wasn't  at  the  foot,  though  his 
name  was  duly  signed,  witnessed  and  acknowledged. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "there's  where  the  gazelle  comes  in."  He  then  took  a  bite 
off  the  corner  of  a  plug  of  tobacco  about  as  big  as  a  railroad  land  grant,  and 
laid  two  twenty  dollar  gold  pieces  on  the  desk  near  my  arm.  I  took  them 
and  tapped  them  together  like  the  cashier  of  the  Bank  of  England,  and,  dis- 
guising my  annoyance  over  the  little  episode,  told  him  to  go  on. 

"  Well,"  said  the  large  man,  fondling  the  wen  which  nestled  lovingly  in 
his  faded  Titian  hair,  "  my  wife  has  conscientious  scruples  against  signing  that 
deed.  We  have  been  married  about  a  year  now,  but  not  actively  for  the  past  eleven 
months.     I'm  kind  of  ex-officio  husband,  as  you  might  say.     After  we'd  been 

(473) 


474 


REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 


married  about  a  month  a  little  incident  occurred  wliicli  made  a  riffle,  as  you 
might  say,  in  our  domestic  tide.  I  was  division  master  on  the  U.  P.,  and  one 
night  I  got  an  order  to  go  down  towards  Sidney  and  look  at  a  bridge.  Of 
course  I  couldn't  get  back  till  the  next  evening.  So  I  sighed  and  switched  off 
to  the  superintendent's  office,  expecting  to  go  over  on  No.  4  and  look  at  the 
bridge.  At  the  office  they  told  me  that  I  needn't  go  till  Tuesday,  so  I  strolled 
up  town  and  got  home  about  nine  o'clock,  went  in  with  a  latch  key,  just  as  a 
mutual  friend  went  out  through  the  bed-room  window,  taking  a  sash  that  I 
paid  two  dollars  for.  I  didn't  care  for  the  sash,  because  he  left  a  pair  of  panta- 
loons worth  twelve  dollars  and  some  silver  in  the  pockets,  but  I  thought  it  was 
such  odd  taste  for  a  man  to  wear  a  sash  without  his  uniform. 

"  Well,  as  I  had  documentary  evidence  against  my  wife.  I  told  her  she  could 
take  a  vacation.     She  cried  a  good  deal,  but  it  didn't  count.     I  suffered  a  good 

deal,  but  tears  did  not  avail.  It  takes  a 
good  deal  of  damp  weather  to  float  me  out 
of  my  regular  channel.  She  spent  the  night 
packing  her  trosseau,  and  in  the  morning 
she  went  away.  Now,  I  could  get  a  divorce 
and  save  all  this  trouble  of  getting  her  sig- 
nature, but  I'd  rather  not  tell  this  whole 
business  in  court,  for  the  little  woman  seems 
to  be  trying  to  do  better,  and  if  it  wasn't 
for  her  blamed  old  hyena  of  a  mother,  would 
get  along  tip-top.  She's  living  with  her 
mother  now  and  if  a  lawyer  would  go  to  the 
girl  and  tell  her  how  it  is,  and  that  I  want 
to  sell  the  property  and  want  her  signa- 
turf',  in  place  of  getting  a  divorce,  I  believe 
she'd  sign.      "Would  you  mind  trying  it?" 


I  said  if  I  could  get  time 


would  go 


COAXING 


over  and  talk  with  her  and  see  what  she 
said.  So  I  did.  I  got  along  pretty  well, 
too.  I  found  the  young  woman  at  home,  and  told  her  the  legal  aspects  of  the 
case.  She  wouldn't  admit  any  of  the  charges,  but  after  a  long  parley  agreed 
to  execute  the  deed  and  save  trouble.  She  came  to  my  office  an  hour  later,  and 
signed  the  instrument.     I  got  two  witnesses  to  the  signature  and  had  just  put 


SHE   KIND   OF   COAXED   HIM.  475 

the  notarial  seal  on  it  when  the  girl's  mother  came  in.  She  asked  her  daughter 
if  she  had  signed  the  deed  and  was  told  that  she  had.  She  said  nothing,  but 
smiled  in  a  way  that  made  my  blood  run  cold.  If  a  woman  were  to  smile  on 
me  tliat  Avay  every  day,  I  should  certainly  commit  some  great  crime. 

I  was  just  congratulating  myself  on  the  success  of  the  business,  and  was 
looking  at  the  two  ^20  gold  pieces  and  trying  to  get  acquainted  with  them,  as 
it  were,  after  the  two  women  had  gone  away,  when  they  returned  with  the  hus- 
band and  son-in-law  at  the  head  of  the  yjrocession.  He  looked  pale  and  care- 
worn to  me.  He  asked  me  in  a  low  voice  if  I  had  a  deed  there,  executed  by 
his  wife.  I  said  yes.  He  then  asked  me  if  I  would  kindly  destroy  it.  I  said 
I  would.  I  would  make  deeds  and  tear  them  up  all  day  at  $40  apiece.  I  said 
I  liked  the  conveyancing  business  very  much,  and  if  a  client  felt  like  having  a 
grand,  warranty  deed  debauch,  I  was  there  to  furnish  the  raw  material. 

I  then  tore  up  the  deed  and  the  two  women  went  quietly  away.  After  they 
had  gone,  my  client,  in  an  absent-minded  way,  took  out  a  large  quid  that  had 
outlived  its  usefulness,  laid  it  tenderly  on  the  open  page  of  Estey's  Pleadings, 
and  said: 

"  You  doubtless  think  I  am  a  singular  organization,  and  that  my  ways  are 
past  finding  out.  I  wish  to  ask  you  if  I  did  right  a  moment  ago?  "  Here  he 
took  out  another  $20  and  put  it  under  the  paper  weight.  "  When  I  went 
down  stairs  I  met  my  mother-in-law.  She  always  looked  to  me  like  a  firm 
woman,  but  I  did  not  think  she  was  so  unswerving  as  she  really  was.  She 
asked  me  in  a  low,  musical  voice  to  please  destroy  the  deed,  and  then  she  took 
one  of  them  Smith  &  Wesson  automatic  advance  agents  of  death  out  from  under 
her  apron  and  kind  of  wheedled  me  into  saying  I  would.  Now,  did  I  do  right  ? 
I  want  a  candid,  legal  opinion,  and  I'm  ready  to  pay  for  it." 

I  said  he  did  perfectly  right. 


f\r)^\jjer\\)(^  39  Ir^uitatioi). 

Hudson,  "Wis.,  January  19,  1886. 

,'EAR  FEIEND. — I  have  just  received  your  kind  and  cordial  invitation 
5;^p|  to  come  to  Washington  and  spend  several  weeks  there  among  the  emi- 
nent men  of  our  proud  land.  I  Avould  be  glad  to  go  as  you  suggest, 
but  I  cannot  do  so  at  this  time.  I  am  passionately  fond  of  mingling 
with  the  giddy  whirl  of  good  society.  I  hope  you  will  not  feel  that  my  reason 
for  declining  your  kind  invitation  is  that  I  feel  myself  above  good  society.  I 
assure  you  I  do  not. 

Nothing  pleases  me  better  than  to  dress  up  and  mingle  among  my  fellow- 
men,  with  a  sprinkling  here  and  there  of  the  other  sex.  It  is  true  that  the 
most  profitable  study  for  inankind  is  man,  but  we  should  not  overlook  woman. 
Woman  is  now  seeking  to  be  emancipated.  Let  us  put  our  great,  strong  arms 
around  her  and  emancipate  her.  Even  if  we  cannot  emancipate  but  one,  we 
shall  not  have  lived  entirely  for  naught. 

I  am  told  by  those  upon  whom  I  can  rely  that  there  are  hundreds  of  attract- 
ive young  women  throughout  our  joyous  land  who  have  arrived  at  years  of 
discretion  and  yet  who  liave  never  been  emancipated.  I  met  a  w^oman  on  the 
cars  last  week  who  is  lecturing  on  this  subject,  and  she  told  me  all  about  it. 
Now,  the  question  at  once  presents  itself,  how  shall  we  emancipate  woman  un- 
less we  go  where  she  is  ?  We  must  go  right  into  society  and  take  her  by  the 
hand  and  never  let  go  of  her  hand  till  she  is  properly  emancipated.  Not  only 
must  she  be  emancipated,  but  she  must  be  emancipated  from  her  present  thrall- 
dom.  Thralldom  of  this  kind  is  liable  to  break  out  in  any  community,  and 
those  who  are  now  in  perfect  health  may  pine  away  in  a  short  time  and  flicker. 

My  course,  while  mingling  in  society's  mad  whirl,  is  to  first  open  the  con- 
versation with  a  young  lady  by  leading  her  away  to  the  conservatory,  where  I 
ask  her  if  she  has  ever  been  the  victim  of  thralldom  and  whether  or  not  she 
has  ever  been  ground  under  the  heel  of  the  tyrant  man.  I  then  time  her  pulse 
for  thirty  minutes,  so  as  to  strike  a  good  average.  The  emancipation  of  woman 
is  destined  at  some  day  to  become  one  of  our  leading  industries. 

476 


ANSWEEING   AN   INVITATION.  477 

You  also  ask  me  to  kindly  lead  the  German  while  there.  I  would  cheer- 
fully do  so,  but  owing  to  the  wobbly  eccentricity  of  my  cyclone  leg,  it  would 
be  sort  of  a  broken  German.  But  I  could  sit  near  by  and  watch  the  game  with 
a  furtive  glaiice,  and  fan  the  young  ladies  between  the  acts,  and  converse  with 
them  in  low,  earnest,  passionate  tones.  I  like  to  converse  with  people  in  whom 
I  take  an  interest.  I  was  conversing  with  a  young  lady  one  evening  at  a 
recherche  ball  in  my  far  away  home  in  the  free  and  unfettered  West,  a  very 
brilliant  affair,  I  remember,  under  the  auspices  of  Hose  Company  No.  2.  I 
was  talking  in  a  loud  and  earnest  way  to  this  liquid-eyed  creature,  a  little 
louder  than  usual,  because  the  music  was  rather  forte  just  then,  and  the  base 
viol  virtuoso  was  bearing  on  rather  hard  at  that  moment.  The  music  ceased 
with  a  sudden  snort.  And  so  did  my  wife,  who  was  just  waltzing  past  us.  If 
I  had  ceased  to  converse  at  the  same  time  that  the  music  shut  off,  all  might 
have  been  well,  but  I  did  not. 

Your  remark  that  the  president  and  cabinet  would  be  glad  to  see  me  this 
winter  is  ill-timed. 

There  have  been  times  when  it  would  have  given  me  much  pleasure  to  visit 
Washington,  but  I  did  not  vote  for  Mr.  Cleveland,  to  tell  the  truth,  and  I  know 
that  if  I  were  to  go  to  the  White  House  and  visit  even  for  a  few  days,  he  would 
reproach  me  and  throw  it  up  to  me.  It  is  true  I  did  not  pledge  myself  to  vote 
for  him,  but  still  I  would  hate  to  go  to  a  man's  house  and  eat  his  popcorn  and 
use  his  smoking  tobacco  after  I  had  voted  against  him  and  talked  about  him 
as  I  have  about  Cleveland. 

No,  I  can't  be  a  hypocrite.  I  am  right  out,  open  and  above  board.  If  I 
talk  about  a  man  behind  his  back,  I  won't  go  and  gorge  myself  with  his 
victuals.  I  was  assured  by  parties  in  whom  I  felt  perfect  confidence  that  Mr. 
Cleveland  was  a  "moral  leper,"  and  relying  on  such  assurances  from  men  in 
whom  I  felt  that  I  could  trust,  and  not  being  at  that  time  where  I  could  ask 
Mr.  Cleveland  in  person  whether  he  was  or  was  not  a  moral  leper  as  aforesaid, 
I  assisted  in  spreading  the  report  that  he  had  been  exposed  to  moral  leprosy, 
and  as  near  as  I  could  learn,  he  Avas  liable  to  come  down  with  it  at  any  time. 

So  that  even  if  I  go  to  Washington  I  shall  put  u})  at  a  hotel  and  pay  my 
bills  just  as  any  other  American  citizen  would.  I  know  how  it  is  with  Mr. 
Cleveland  at  this  time.  When  the  legislature  is  in  session  there,  people  come 
in  from  around  Buffalo  with  their  butter  and  eggs  to  sell,  and  stay  over  night 
with  the  president.     But  they  should  not  ride  a  free  horse  to  death.     I  may 


478  REMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

not  be  well  educated,  but  I  am  liigli  strung  till  you  can't  rest.     Groceries  are 
just  as  liigli  in  Washington  as  they  are  in  Philadelphia. 

I  hope  that  you  will  not  glean  from  the  foregoing  that  I  have  lost  my  in- 
terest in  national  afPairs.  God  forbid.  Though  not  in  the  political  arena  my- 
self, my  sympathies  are  with  those  who  are.  I  am  willing  to  assist  the  families 
of  those  who  are  in  the  political  arena  trying  to  obtain  a  precarious  livelihood 
thereby.  I  was  once  an  official  under  the  Federal  government  myself,  as  the 
curious  student  of  national  affairs  may  learn  if  he  will  go  to  the  Treasury  De- 
partment at  "Washington,  D.  C,  and  ask  to  see  my  voucher  for  $9.85,  cover- 
ing salary  as  United  States  commissioner  for  the  Second  Judicial  District  of 
Wyoming  for  the  year  1882.  It  was  at  that  time  that  a  vile  contemporary 
characterized  me  as  "a  corrupt  and  venal  Federal  official  who  had  fattened 
upon  the  hard-wrung  taxes  of  my  fellow  citizens  and  gorged  myself  for  years 
at  the  public  crib."  This  was  unjust.  I  was  not  corrupt.  I  was  not  venal. 
I  was  only  hungry ! 


m  HEEE    is    an    institution    in  Boston   which  the  Pilgrim   Fathers  did 
not  originate.     That  is  the  street  car.     There  is  a  street  car  parade 


all  day  on  Washington  street,  and  a  red-light  procession  most  of  the 
^'     night. 

People  told  me  that  I  could  get  into  a  car  and  go  anywhere  I  wanted  to. 
I  ti'ied  it.  There  was  a  point  in  Boston,  I  learned,  where  there  were  some 
more  relics  that  I  hadn't  seen.  Parties  told  me  where  I  could  find  some  more 
fragments  of  the  Mayflower,  and  an  old  chair  in  which  Josiah  Quincy  had  sat 
down  to  think.  There  were  also  a  few  more  low  price  flint-lock  guns  and 
tomahawks  that  no  man  who  visited  Boston  could  afford  to  miss.  Besides, 
there  Avas  said  to  be  the  lock  that  used  to  be  on  the  door  of  a  room  in  which 
General  Washington  had  a  good  notion  to  write  his  farewell  address.  All 
these  things  were  in  the  collection  which  I  started  out  to  find,  and  there  were 
others,  also. 

For  instance,  there  was  a  specimen  of  the  lightning  that  Franklin  caught 
in  his  demijohn  out  of  the  sky,  and  still  in  a  good  state  of  preservation ;  also 
some  more  clothes  in  which  he  was  baptized,  more  swords  of  Bunker  Hill,  and 
a  little  shirt  which  John  Hancock  put  on  as  soon  as  he  was  born.  Hancock 
was  a  perfect  gentleman  from  his  birth,  and  it  is  said  that  the  first  thing  he 
did  was  to  excuse  himself  for  a  moment  and  then  put  on  this  shirt.  His  man- 
ners were  certainly  very  agreeable,  and  he  was  very  much  polished. 

I  heard,  too,  that  there  was  an  acorn  from  the  tree  in  which  Benedict 
Arnold  had  his  nest  while  he  was  hatching  treason.  I  did  not  believe  it,  but 
I  had  an  idea  I  could  readily  discover  the  fraud  if  I  could  only  see  the  acorn, 
for  I  am  a  great  historian  and  researcher  from  away  back.  I  was  told  that  in 
this  collection  there  was  a  suspender  button  shed  by  Patrick  Henry  during  his 
memorable  speech  in  which  he  raised  up  to  his  full  height  on  his  hind  feet 
and  permitted  the  war  to  come  in  ihilics,  also  in  small  caps  and  in  LARGE 
CAPS!  !  !  with  three  astonishers  on  the  end. 

(4T9) 


4S0 


BEMAllKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 


So  I  wanted  to  find  this  place,  and  as  I  had  plenty  of  means  I  decided  to 
ride  in  a  street  car.  Tlierefore,  I  aimed  my  panic  price  cane  at  the  di'iver  of 
a  cream-colored  car  with  a  blue  stomach,  and  remarked,  "Hi,  there!"     Before 

I  go  any  further,  and  in  order  to  avoid  ambi- 
guity, let  me  say  that  it  was  the  car  that  had 
tJie  blue  stomach.  He  (the  driver)  twisted 
the  brake  and  I  went  inside,  clear  to  the 
further  end,  and  sat  down  by  the  side  of  a 
young  woman  who  filled  the  whole  car  with 
sunshine.  I  was  so  happy  that  I  gave  the 
conductor  half  a  dollar  and  told  him  to  keep 
the  change.  If  by  chance  she  sees  this,  I 
hope  she  still  remembers  me.  Pretty  soon  a 
very  fat  woman  came  into  the  car  and  aimed 
for  our  quarter.  She  evidently  intended  to 
squat  between  this  fair  girl  and  myself.  But 
ah,  thought  I  to  myself  in  a  low  tone  of 
voice,  I  will  fool  thee.  So  I  shoved  my  per- 
son along  in  the  seat  toward  the  sweet  girl 
of  the  Bay  State.  The  corpulent  party, 
whose  name  I  did  not  learn,  had  in  the 
meantime  backed  up  to  where  she  had  detected 
a  slight  vacancy,  and  where  I  had  seen  fit  to 
place  myself.  At  that  moment  she  heaved  a 
sigh  of  relief,  and,  assisted  by  the  motion  of 
the  car,  which  just  then  turned  a  corner,  she 
sat  down  in  my  lap  and  nestled  in  my  bosom 
like  a  tired  baby  elephant. 

yfi  Tft  vjf  yf:  tf  vf!  vpr 

Dear  reader,  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  the  crystal  of  my  watch  was  picked 
out  from  under  my  shoulder  blades  the  next  day,  you  would  not  believe  it, 
would  you?  I  will  not  strain  your  faith  in  me  by  making  the  statement,  but 
that  was  the  heaviest  woman  I  ever  held. 

While  all  this  was  going  on  I  lost  track  of  my  location.  The  car  began  to 
squirm  around  all  over  Boston,  and  finally  the  conductor  came  back  and  wanted 
more  money.     I  said  no,  I  would  get  off  and  try  a  dark  red  car  with  a  green 


PATKICK    HENRY. 


STREET    CARS    AND    CURIOSITIES. 


481 


stomach  for  a  wliile.     So  I  did.     I  rode  on  that  till  I  had  seen  a  great  deal  of 

new  scenery,  and  then  I  asked  the  conductor  if  he  passed  Number  Clankety 

Clank,  Blank  street.     He  said  he  did  not,  but  if  I  would  go  down  two  blocks 

further  and  take  a  maroon  car  with  a  plaid 

stomach  it  would  take  me  to  the  corner  of 

",Wliat-do-you-call-it    and   What's-his-name 

streets,"  where,  if  1  look  a  seal  brown  car 

with  squshed  huckleberry  trimmings  it  would 

take  me  to  where  I  wanted  to  go.    So  I  tried 

it.     I  do  not  know  just  where  I  missed  my 

train,  but  when  I  found  the  seal  brown  car 

with  scrunched  huckleberry  trimmings  it  was 

going  the  other  way,   and  as  it  was  late  I 

went  into  a  cafe  and  refreshed  myself.     When 

I  came  out  I  discovered  that  it  was  too  late 

to  see  the  collection,  even  if  I  could  find  it, 

for  at  6  o'clock  they  take  the  relics  in  and 

put  them  into  a  refrigerator  till  morning. 

I  was  now  weary  and  somewhat  disap- 
pointed, so  I  desired  to  get  back  to  my  head- 
quarters, wherein  I  could  rest  and  where  I 

could  lock  myself  up  in  my  room,  so  no  prize  fat  woman  could  enter.  I  hailed 
one  of  those  sawed-off  landaus,  consisting  of  tAvo  wheels,  one  door  behind,  and 
a  bill  for  two  bits.  I  told  the  college  graduate  on  the  box  where  I  wanted  to 
go,  gave  him  a  quarter  and  got  in.  I  sat  down  and  heaved  a  chaste  sigh.  The 
sigh  was  only  half  hove  when  the  herdic  backed  up  to  my  destination,  which 
was  about  300  feet  from  where  I  got  in,  as  the  crow  flies. 

When  I  go  to  Boston  again,  I  am  going  in  charge  of  the  police. 

The  street  railway  system  of  Boston  is  remarkably  perfect.  Fifty  cars  pass 
a  given  point  on  Washington  street  in  an  hour,  and  yet  there  are  no  blockades. 
You  can  take  one  of  those  cars,  if  you  are  a  stranger,  and  you  can  get  so 
mixed  up  that  you  will  never  get  back,  and  all  for  five  cents.  I  felt  a  good 
deal  like  the  man  who  was  full  and  who  stepped  on  a  man  who  was  not  full. 
The  sober  man  was  mad,  and  yelled  out:  "See  here;  condemn  it,  can't  you 
look  where  you're  walking?"  "Betcher  life,"  says  the  inebriate,  "but  the 
trouble  is  to  Avalk  where  I'm  lookin'." 


TAKING   A   PRIZE. 


Jf?<?  poor  Blipd  pi(^. 

P  HAVE  just  been  over  to  the  Falls  of  Minnelialia.  In  fact  I  have  been 
'  quite  a  tourist  and  summer  resorter  this  season,  having  saturated  my  sys- 
tem with  nineteen  different  styles  of  mineral  water  in  Wisconsin  alone, 
"^  and  tried  to  win  the  attention  of  nineteen  different  styles  of  head  waiters 
at  these  summer  hotels,  I  may  add  in  passing  that  the  summer  hotels  of 
Wisconsin  and  Minnesota  have  been  crowded  full  the  past  season  and  more 
room  will  have  to  be  added  before  another  season  comes  around. 

The  motto  of  the  summer  hotel  seems  to  be,  "Unless  ye  shall  have  feed 
the  waiter,  behold  ye  shall  in  no  wise  be  fed."     Many  waiters  at  these  places, 

by  a  judicious  system  of  blackmail 
and  starvation,  have  reduced  the 
guest  to  a  sad  state. 

The  mineral  water  of  Wiscon- 
sin ranks  high  as  a  beverage. 
Many  persons  are  using  it  during 
the  entire  summer  in  place  of  rum. 
The  water  of  Waukesha  does 
not  appear  to  taste  of  any  mineral, 
although  an  analysis  shows  the 
presence  of  several  kinds  of  gro- 
ceries in  solution.  The  water  at 
Palmyra  Springs  also  tastes  like 
any  other  pure  wmter,  but  at  Kan- 
kanna,  on  the  Fox  Eiver,  they  have 
a  style  of  mineral  water  which  is 
different.  Almost  as  soon  as  you  taste  it  you  discover  that  it  is  extremely  dif- 
ferent. Colonel  Watrous,  of  the  Milwaukee  Sunday  Telegraph,  took  some  of  it. 
I  saw  him  afterward.     He  looked  depressed,  and  told  me  that  he  had  been 

(482) 


THE    MAN   WHO    FEES    THE   "WAITER, 


THE   POOR   BLIND   TIG.  483 

deceived.  Several  Kankanna  people  had  told  him  that  this  was  living  water. 
He  had  discovered  otherwise.  He  hated  to  place  his  confidence  in  people  and 
then  find  it  mis})laced. 

A  favorite  style  of  Kankanna  revenge  is  to  drink  a  quart  of  this  water, 
and  then,  on  meeting  an  enemy,  to  breathe  on  him  and  wither  him.  One 
breath  produces  syncope  and  blind  staggers.  Two  breaths  induce  coma  and 
metallic  casket  for  one. 

Minnehaha  is  not  mineral  water.  It  is  just  plain  water,  giving  itself  away 
day  after  day  like  a  fresh  young  man  in  society.  If  you  want  pure  water, 
you  get  it  at  the  spring  near  the  foot  of  the  fall,  and  if  you  want  it  flavored 
Avith  something  that  will  leave  a  blazed  road  the  whole  length  of  your  aliment- 
ary canal,  you  g«)  to  the  "  blind  pig,"  a  few  rods  away  from  the  falls. 

The  blind  pig  draws  many  people  toward  the  falls  through  sympathy.  To 
be  blind  must  indeed  be  a  sad  plight.  Let  us  pause  and  reflect  on  this  prop- 
osition. 

By  good  fortune  I  have  had  a  chance  to  watch  the  rum  problem  in  all  its 
phases  this  summer.  Beginning  in  Maine,  where  the  most  ingenious  methods 
of  whipping  the  devil  around  the  stump  are  adopted,  then  going  through 
northern  Iowa  and  tasting  her  exhilarating  pop,  and  at  last  paying  ten  cents 
to  see  the  blind  pig  at  Minnehaha,  I  feel  like  one  who  has  Avrestled  with  the 
temperance  problem  in  a  practical  way,  and  I  have  about  decided  that  a  high 
license  is  about  the  only  way  to  make  the  sale  of  whisky  odious.  Prohibi- 
tion is  too  abrupt  in  its  methods,  and  one  generation  can  hardly  wipe  out  the 
appetite  for  liquor  that  has  been  planted  and  fostered  by  fifty  preceding  genera- 
tions. 

For  fear  that  a  few  of  my  lady  readers  do  not  know  what  the  Minnehaha 
blind  pig  looks  like,  and  that  they  may  be  curious  about  it,  I  will  just  say 
that  it  is  a  method  of  evading  the  law,  and  consists  of  a  dumb  waiter,  wherein, 
if  you  pay  ten  cents,  you  get  a  glass  of  stimulants  without  the  annoyance  of 
conversation.  Many  ladies  who  visit  the  falls,  and  who  have  heard  incident- 
ally about  the  blind  pig,  express  a  desire  to  see  the  poor  little  thing,  but  their 
husbands  generally  persuade  them  to  refrain. 

Minnehaha  is  a  beautiful  waterfall.  It  is  not  so  frightfully  large  and  grand 
as  Niagara,  but  it  is  very  fine,  and  if  the  State  of  Minnesota  would  catch  the 
man  who  nails  his  signs  on  the  trees  around  there,  and  choke  him  to  death 
near  the  falls  on  a  pleasant  day,  a  large  audience  would  attend  with  much 


484  REMAllKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

pleasure.  I  believe  that  the  fence-board  advertiser  is  not  only,  as  a  rule, 
wicked,  but  he  also  lacks  common  sense.  Who  ever  bought  a  liver  pad  or  a 
corset  because  he  read  about  it  on  a  high  board  fence  ?  No  one.  Who  ever 
purchased  a  certain  kind  of  pill  or  poultice  because  the  name  of  that  pill  or 
poultice  was  nailed  on  a  tree  to  disfigure  a  beautiful  landscape  ?  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  any  sane  human  being  ever  did  so.  If  everyone  feels  as  I  do  about 
it,  people  would  rather  starve  to  death  for  pills  and  freeze  to  death  in  a  per- 
fect wilderness  of  liver  pads  than  buy  of  the  man  who  daubs  the  fair  face  of 
nature  with  names  of  his  alleged  goods. 

I  saw  a  squaw  who  seemed  to  belong  in  the  picture  of  the  poetic  little 
waterfall.  I  did  not  learn  her  name.  It  was  one  of  these  long,  corduroy 
Sioux  names,  that  hang  together  with  hyphens  like  a  lot  of  sausage.  The 
salaried  humorist  of  the  party  said  he  never  sausage  a  name  before. 

Translated  into  our  tongue  it  meant  The-swift-daughter-of-the-prairie-bliz- 
zard-that-gathers-the-huckleberry-on-the-run-and-don't-you-forget-it. 


Daniel  U/ebster. 


PRESUME  tliat  Daniel  Webster  was  as  good  an  off-hand  speaker  as  this 

country  has  ever  produced.     Massachusetts  has  been  well  represented  in 

Congress  since  that  time,  but  she  has  had  few  who  could  successfully  com- 

^^    pete  with  D.  Webster,  Esq.,  attorney  and  counsellor-at-law,  Boston,  Mass. 

I  have  never  met  Mr.  Webster,  but  I  have  seen  a  cane  that  he  used  to  wear, 

and  since  that  time  I  have  felt  a  great  interest  in  him.     It  was  a  heavy  winter 

cane,  and  was  presented  to  him  as  a  token  of  respect. 

This  reminds  me  of  the  inscription  on  a  grave  stone  in  the  280-year-old 
churchyard  at  LaPointe,  on  Lake  Superior,  where  I  was  last  week.  It  shows 
what  punctuation  has  done  for  a  lost  and  undone  race.  I  copy  the  inscription 
exactly  as  it  appears: 

-^  Louis  Rou  de  deau  j^ 
SHOT  ^ 


As    A    MARK    OF 

Esteem  by  his 

L      Brother  W 

5rH5HSH5HHHErESE£j^ 

Daniel  Webster  had  one  of  the  largest  and  most  robust  brains  that  ever 
flourished  in  our  fair  land.  It  was  what  we  frequently  call  a  teeming  brain, 
one  of  those  four-horse  teeming  brains,  as  it  were.  Mr.  Webster  wore  the 
largest  hat  of  any  man  then  in  Congress,  and  other  senators  and  representa- 
tives used  to  frequently  borrow  it  to  wear  on  the  2nd  of  January,  the  5th  of 
July,  and  after  other  special  occasions,  when  they  had  been  in  executive  ses- 
sion most  all  night  and  endured  great  mental  strain.  This  hat  matter  reminds 
me  of  an  incident  in  the  life  of  Benjamin  F.  Butler,  a  man  well  known  in 
Massachusetts  even  at  the  present  time. 

(485) 


486  REMARKS    BY    BILL    NYE. 

One  evening,  at  a  kind  of  reception  or  some  such  dissipation  as  that,  while 
Jim  Nye  was  in  the  Senate,  the  latter  left  his  silk  hat  on  the  lounge  with  the 
opening  turned  up,  and  while  he  was  talking  with  someone  else,  Mr.  Butler 
sat  down  in  the  hat  with  so  much  expression  that  it  was  a  wreck.  Everyone 
expected  to  see  James  W.  Nye  walk  up  and  smite  Benjamin  F.  Butler,  but  he 
did  not  do  so.  He  looked  at  the  chaotic  hat  for  a  minute,  more  in  sorrow  than 
in  anger,  and  then  he  said: 

"  Benjamin,  I  could  have  told  you  that  hat  wouldn't  fit  you  before  you 
tried  it  on." 

Daniel  Webster's  brain  was  not  only  very  large,  but  it  was  in  good  order 
all  the  time.  Sometimes  Nature  bestows  large  brains  on  men  who  do  not  rise 
to  great  prominence.  Large  brains  do  not  always  indicate  great  intellectual 
power.  These  brains  are  large  but  of  an  inferior  quality.  A  schoolmate  of  mine 
used  to  wear  a  hat  that  I  could  put  my  head  and  both  feet  into  with  perfect 
ease.  I  remember  that  he  tied  my  shirt  one  day  while  I  was  laving  my  well- 
rounded  limbs  in  the  mill  pond  near  my  childhood's  home. 

I  was  mad  at  the  time,  but  I  could  not  lick  him,  for  he  was  too  large.  All 
I  could  do  was  to  patiently  untie  my  shirt  while  my  teeth  chattered,  then  fling 
a  large,  three-cornered  taunt  in  his  teeth  and  run.  He  kept  on  poking  fun  at 
me,  I  remember,  till  I  got  dressed,  and  alluded  incidentally,  to  my  small  brain 
and  abnormal  feet.  This  stung  my  sensitive  nature,  and  I  told  him  that  if  I 
had  such  a  wealth  of  brain  as  he  had,  and  it  was  of  no  use  to  think  with,  I 
would  take  it  to  a  restaurant  and  have  it  breaded.     Then  I  went  away. 

But  Ave  were  speaking  of  Webster.  Many  lawyers  of  our  day  would  do 
well  to  read  and  study  the  illustrious  example  of  Daniel  Webster.  He  did  not 
sit  in  court  all  day  with  his  feet  on  the  table  and  howl,  "We  object,"  and  then 
down  his  client  for  $50,  just  because  he  had  made  a  noise.  I  employed  a  law- 
yer once  to  bring  suit  for  me  to  recover  quite  a  sum  of  money  due  me.  After 
years  of  assessments  and  toilsome  litigation,  we  got  a  judgment.  He  said  to 
me  that  he  was  anxious  to  succeed  with  the  case  mainly  because  he  knew  I 
wanted  to  vindicate  myself.  I  said  yes,  that  was  the  idea  exactly.  I  wanted 
to  be  vindicated. 

So  he  gave  me  the  vindication  and  took  the  judgment  as  a  slight  testimo- 
nial of  his  own  sterling  worth.  When  I  want  to  be  vindicated  again  I  will 
do  it  with  one  of  those  self-cocking  vindicators  that  you  can  carry  in  a 
valise. 


DANIEL   WEBSTER. 


487 


Looking  over  this  letter,  I  am  amazed  to  see  the  amount  of  valuable  infor- 
mation relative  to  the  life  of  Mr.  Webster  that  I  have  succeeded  in  using. 
There  are,  of  course,  some  minor  details  of  Mr.  Webster's  life  which  I  have 
omitted,  but  nothing  of  real  importance.  The  true  history  of  Mr.  Webster  is 
epitomized  here,  and  told  in  a  pleasing  and  graceful  manner,  a  style  that  is 
at  once  accurate  and  just  and  still  elegant,  chaste  and  thoroughly  refined,  while 
at  the  same  time  there  are  little  gobs  of  sly  humor  in  it  that  are  real  cute. 


Ju/o  U/ay5  of  'J<^\\\r)(^  It. 

EEMEMBER  one  sunny  day  in  summer,  we  were  sitting  in  the  Boomerang 
office,  I  and  the  city  editor,  and  he  was  speaking  enviously  of  my  salary 
^1,  of  3150  per  month  as  com])ared  with  his  of  $80,  and  I  had  just  given  him 
"^  the  venerable  minstrel  witticism  that  of  course  my  salary  was  much  larger 
than  his,  but  he  ought  not  to  forget  that  he  got  his. 

Just  then  there  was  a  revolver  shot  at  the  foot  of  our  stairs,  and  then 
another.  The  printers  rushed  into  the  stairway  from  the  composing  room,  and 
to  save  time  I  ran  out  on  the  balcony  that  hung  over  the  sidewalk  and  which 
gave  me  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  murder.  The  next  issue  of  the  paper  con- 
tained an  account  about  like  this: 

Cold-Blooded  Murder. — Yesterday,  between  12  and  1  o'clock,  in  front  of 
this  office  on  Second  street,  James  McKeon,  in  a  manner  almost  wholly  unpro- 
voked, shot  James  Smith,  commonly  known  as  Windy  Smith.  Smith  died  at 
2  o'clock  this  morning  of  his  wounds.  Windy  Smith  was  not  a  bad  man,  but, 
as  his  nickname  would  imply,  he  was  a  kind  of  noisy,  harmless  fellow,  and 
McKeon,  who  is  a  gambler  and  professional  bad  man,  can  give  no  good  reason 
for  the  killing.     There  is  a  determined  effort  on  foot  to  lynch  the  murderer. 

This  account  was  brief,  but  it  seemed  to  set  forth  the  facts  pretty  clearly, 
I  thought,  and  I  felt  considerably  chagrined  when  I  saw  an  account  of  the 
matter  latter  on,  as  written  up  by  the  prosecuting  attorney.  I  may  be  inaccu- 
rate as  to  dates  and  some  other  points  of  detail,  but,  as  nearly  as  I  can  remem- 
ber, his  version  of  the  matter  was  like  this : 

The  Territory  of  Wyoming,  ] 
County  op  Albany.  j  ^^* 

In  Justice's  Court,  before  E.  W.  Nye,  Esq.,  Justice  of  the  Peace. 

The  Territory  of  Wyoming,  plt'fP.  ) 

vs.  J-      Complaint. 

James  McKeon,  deft.  ) 

The  above  named  defendant,  James  McKeon,  is  accused  of  the  crime  of 
murder,  for  that  he,  the  said  defendant,  James  McKeon,  at  the  town  of  Lara- 

(488) 


TWO    WAYS    OF    TELLING    IT.  489 

mie  City,  in  the  County  of  Albany  and  Territory  of  Wyoming,  and  on  the 
13th  day  of  July,  Anno  Domini  1880,  then  and  there  being,  he,  the  said 
defendant,  James  McKeon,  did  wilfully,  maliciously,  feloniously,  wickedly, 
unlawfully,  criminally,  illegally,  unjustly,  premeditatedly,  coolly  and  murder- 
ously, by  means  of  a  certain  deadly  weapon  commoidy  called  a  Smith  &  Wes- 
son revolver,  or  revolving  pistol,  so  constructed  as  to  revolve  upon  itself  and 
to  be  discharged  by  means  of  a  spring  and  hammer,  and  with  six  chambers 
thereto,  and  known  commoidy  as  a  self-cocker,  the  same  loaded  with  gun-powder 
and  leaden  bullets,  and  in  the  hands  of  him,  the  said  defendant,  James  McKeon, 
level  at,  to,  upon,  by,  contiguous  to  and  against  the  body  of  one  James  Smith, 
commonly  called  Windy  Smith,  in  the  peace  of  the  commonwealth  then  and 
there  being,  and  that  by  means  of  said  deadly  weapon  commonly  called  a 
Smith  &  Wesson  revolver,  or  revolving  pistol,  so  constructed  as  to  revolve  upon 
itself  and  to  be  discharged  by  means  of  a  spring  or  hammer,  and  with  six 
chambers  thereto  and  known  commonly  as  a  self-cocker,  the  same  loaded  with 
gunpowder  and  leaden  bullets  and  in  the  hands  of  him  the  said  defendant,  James 
McKeon,  held  at,  to,  upon,  by,  contiguous  to  and  against  the  body  of  him,  the 
said  James  Smith,  commonly  called  Windy  Smith,  he,  the  said  James  McKeon, 
did  wilfully,  maliciously,  feloniously,  wickedly,  fraudulently,  virulently,  un- 
lawfully, criminally,  illegally,  brutally,  unjustly,  premeditatedly,  coolly  and 
murderously,  of  his  malice  aforethought  with  the  deadly  weapon  aforesaid  held 
in  the  right  hand  of  him,  the  said  defendant,  James  McKeon,  to,  at,  against, 
etc.,  the  body  of  him,  the  said  James  Smith,  commonly  called  Windy  Smith, 
he,  the  said  defendant,  James  McKeon,  at  the  said  town  of  Laramie  City,  in 
the  said  County  of  Albany,  and  in  the  heretofore  enumerated  Territory  of 
Wyoming,  and- on  the  hereinbefore  mentioned  13th  day  of  July,  Anno  Domini 
1880,  did  inflict  to,  at,  upon,  by,  contiguous  to,  adjacent  to,  adjoining,  over  and 
against  the  body  of  him,  the  said  James  Smith,  commonly  called  Windy 
Smith,  one  certain  deadly,  mortal,  dangerous  and  painful  wound,  to-wit:  Over, 
against,  to,  at,  by,  upon,  contiguous  to,  near,  adjacent  to  and  bisecting  the 
intestines  of  him,  the  said  James  Smith,  commonly  called  Windy  Smith,  by 
reason  of  which  he,  the  said  James  Smith,  commonly  called  Windy  Smith,  did 
in  great  agony  linger,  and  lingering  did  die,  on  the  14th  day  of  July,  Anno 
Domini  1880,  at  2  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  of  said  day,  contrary  to  the  statutes 
in. such  case  made  and  provided,  and  against  the  peace  and  dignity  of  the  Ter- 
ritory of  Wyoming. 


490  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

I  am  now  convinced  that  although  the  published  account  was  correct,  it 
was  not  as  full  as  it  might  have  been.  Perhaps  the  tendency  of  modern  jour- 
nalism is  to  epitomize  too  much.  In  the  hurry  of  daily  newspaper  work  and 
the  press  of  matter  upon  our  pages,  very  likely  we  are  fatally  brief,  and  sac- 
rifice rhetorical  beauty  to  naked  and  goose-pimply  facts. 


f\\\    /^bOdt  f\\(^T)\3\c,. 


?MHE  subject  of  meals,  lunch-counters,  dining-cars  and  bufPet-cars  came 
up  the  other  day,  incidentally.  I  had  ordered  a  little  breakfast 
''^  ^\f  in  the  bulf et-car,  not  so  much  because  I  expected  to  get  anything,  but 
'^'^  because  I  liked  to  eat  in  a  car  and  have  all  the  other  passengers  glar- 
ing at  me.  I  do  not  know  which  affords  me  the  most  pleasure — to  sit  for  a 
photograph  and  be  stabbed  in  the  cerebellum  with  a  cast-iron  prong,  to  be  fed 
in  the  presence  of  a  mixed  company  of  strangers,  or  to  be  called  on  without  any 
preparation  to  make  a  farewell  speech  on  the  gallows. 

However,  I  got  my  breakfast  after  awhile.  The  waiter  was  certainly  the 
most  worthless,  trifling,  half-asleep  combination  of  Senegambian  stupidity  and 
jDoor  white  trash  indolence  and  awkwardness  that  I  ever  saw.     He  brouo-ht 

in  everything  except  what  I  wanted,  and  then 
wound  up  by  upsetting  the  little  cream  pitcher 
in  my  lap.  He  did  not  charge  for  the  cream. 
He  threw  that  in. 

So  all  the  rest  of  the  journey  I  was  trying 
to  eradicate  a  cream  dado  from  my  pantaloons. 
It  made  me  mad,  because  those  pantaloons  were 
made  for  me  by  request.  Besides,  I  haven't 
got  pantaloons  to  S(iuander  in  that  way.  To 
some  a  pair  of  pantaloons,  more  or  less,  is  noth- 
ing, l)ut  it  is  much  to  me. 

There  was  a  porter  on  the  same  train  who 
was  much  the  same  kind  of  furniture  as  the 
waiter.  He  slept  days  and  made  up  berths  all 
night.  Truly,  he  began  making  up  berths  at 
Jersey  City,  and  when  he  got  through,  about 
daylight,  it  was  time  to  begin  to  unmake  them 
again.  All  night  long  I  could  hear  him  opening  and  shutting  the  berths  like 
a  concertina.     He  sang  softly  to  himself  all  night  long: 

"  You  must  camp  a  little  in  the  wilderness 
And  then  we'll  all  go  home." 
He  played  his  own  accompaniment  on  the  berths. 

(491) 


SHOWING  HIS  INMOST  THOUGHT 


492  KEMARKS    BY    BILL   NYE. 

When  in  repose  he  was  generally  asleep  with  a  whisk  broom  in  one  hand 
and  the  other  hand  extended  with  the  palm  up,  waiting  for  a  dividend  to  be  de- 
clared. 

He  generally  slept  with  his  mouth  open,  so  that  you  could  read  his  inmost 
thoughts,  and  when  I  complained  to  him  about  the  way  my  bunk  felt,  he  said 
he  was  sorry,  and  wanted  to  know  which  cell  I  was  in. 

I  rode,  years  ago,  over  a  new  stage  line  for  several  days.  It  was  through 
an  almost  trackless  wilderness,  and  the  service  hadn't  been  "  expedited  "  then. 
It  was  not  a  star  route,  anyhow.  The  government  seemed  to  think  that  the 
man  who  managed  the  thing  ought  not  to  expect  help  so  long  as  he  had  been 
such  a  fool  asterisk  it. 

********* 

(Five  minutes  intermission  for  those  who  wish  to  be  chloroformed.) 

T^  ^  ^  v^  v^  ■9p'  ^  vp  v^ 

The  stage  consisted  of  a  buckboard.  It  was  one  of  the  first  buckboards 
ever  made,  and  the  horse  was  among  the  first  turned  out,  also.  The  driver 
and  myself  were  the  passengers. 

When  it  got  to  be  about  dinner  time,  I  asked  him  if  we  were  not  pretty 
near  the  dinner  station.  He  grunted.  He  hadn't  said  a  word  since  we  started. 
He  was  a  surly,  morose  and  taciturn  man.  I  was 'told  that  he  had  been  dis- 
appointed in  love.  A  half-breed  woman  named  No-Wayno  had  led  him  to  be- 
lieve that  she  loved  him,  and  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  her  husband  she  would 
gladly  have  been  the  driver's  bride.  So  the  driver  assassinated  the  disagree- 
able husband  of  No-Wayno.  Then  he  went  to  the  ranch  to  claim  his  bride, 
but  she  was  not  there.  She  had  changed  her  mind,  and  married  a  cattle  man, 
who  had  just  moved  on  to  the  range  with  a  government  mule  and  a  branding 
iron,  intending  to  slowly  work  himself  into  the  stock  business. 

So  this  driver  was  a  melancholy  man.  He  only  made  one  remark  to  me 
during  that  long  forty-mile  drive  through  the  wilderness.  About  dinner  time 
he  drove  the  horse  under  a  quaking  asp  tree,  tied  a  nose  bag  of  oats  over  its 
head  and  took  a  wad  of  bread  and  bacon  from  his  greasy  pocket.  The  bacon 
and  bread  had  little  flakes  of  smoking  tobacco  all  over  it,  because  he  carried 
his  grub  and  tobacco  in  the  same  pocket.  For  a  moment  he  introduced  one 
corner  of  the  bacon  and  bread  in  among  his  whiskers.  Then  he  made  the  only 
remark  that  he  uttered  while  we  were  together.     He  said : 

"Pardner,  dinner  is  now  ready  in  the  dining-car." 


f\  pou/(?rful  ^p9.^e\). 


ONCE  knew  a  man  who  was  nominated  by  his  fellow  citizens  for  a  certain 
office  and  finally  elected  without  having  expended  a  cent  for  that  purpose. 
He  was  very  eccentric,  but  he  made  a  good  officer.  When  he  heard  that 
'^^  he  was  nominated,  he  went  up,  as  he  said,  into  the  mountains  to  do  some 
assessment  work  on  a  couple  of  claims.  He  got  lost  and  didn't  get  his  bear- 
ings until  a  day  or  two  after  election.  Then  he  came  into  town  hungry,  greasy 
and  ragged,  but  unpledged. 

He  found  that  he  was  elected,  and  in  answer  to  a  telegram  started  off  for 
'Frisco  to  see  a  dying  relative.  He  did  not  get  back  till  the  first  of  January. 
Then  he  filed  his  bond  and  sailed  into  the  office.  He  fired  several  sedentary 
deputies  who  had  been  in  the  place  twenty  years  just  because  they  were  good 
"workers."  That  is,  they  were  good  workers  at  the  polls.  They  saved  all 
their  energies  for  the  campaign,  and  so  they  only  had  vitality  enough  left  to 
draw  their  salaries  during  the  balance  of  the  two  years. 

This  man  raised  the  county  scrip  from  sixty  to  ninety -five  in  less  than  two 
years,  and  still  they  busted  him  in  the  next  convention.  He  was  too  eccentric. 
One  delegate  asked  what  in  Sam  Hill  would  become  of  the  coimtry  if  every 
candidate  should  skin  out  during  the  campaign  and  rusticate  in  the  mountains 
while  the  battle  was  being  fought. 

Says  he,  "I  am  a  delegate  from  the  precinct  of  Rawhide  Buttes,  and  I  calk- 
late  I  know  what  I  am  talkin'  about.  Gentlemen  of  the  convention,  just  sup- 
pose that  everybody,  from  the  President  of  the  United  States  down,  was  to  git 
the  nomination  and  then  light  out  like  a  house  afire  and  never  come  back  till 
it  was  time  to  file  his  bond;  what's  going  to  become  of  us  common  drunkards 
to  whom  election  is  a  noasis  in  the  bad  lands,  an  orange  grove  in  the  alkali 
flats? 

"Mr.  Chairman,  there's  millions  of  dollars  in  this  broad  land  waiting  for  the 
high  tide  of  election  day  to  come  and  float  'em  doAvn  to  where  you  and  I,  Mr. 
Chairman,  as  well  as  other  parched  and  patriotic  inebriates,  can  git  a  hold 
of  'em. 

(493) 


494  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

"Gentlemen,  we  talk  about  stringency  and  shrinkage  of  values,  and  all 
such  funny  business  as  that;  but  that's  something  I  don't  know  a  blamed  thing 
about.  What  I  can  grap2:)le  with  is  this:  If  our  county  offices  are  worth 
$30,000,  and  there  are  other  little  after-claps  and  soft  snaps,  and  walk-overs, 
worth,  say  $10,000,  and  the  boys,  say,  are  williDg  to  do  the  fair  thing,  say,  blow 
in  fifteen  per  cent,  to  the  central  committee,  and  what  they  feel  like  on  the 
outside,  then  politics,  instead  of  a  burden  and  a  reproach,  becomes  a  pleasing 
duty,  a  joyous  occasion  and  a  picnic  to  those  whose  lives  might  otherwise  be  a 
dreary  monotone. 

"Mr.  Chairman,  the  past  two  years  has  wrecked  four  campaign  saloons, 
and  a  tinner  Avho  socked  his  wife's  fortune  into  campaign  torches  is  now  in  a 
land  where  torchlights  is  no  good.  Overcome  by  a  dull  market,  a  financial 
depression  and  a  reserved  central  committee,  he  ate  a  package  of  Eough  on 
Eats,  and  passed  up  the  flume.     He  is  now  at  rest  over  yonder. 

"  Such  instances  would  be  common  if  we  encouraged  the  eccentric  economy 
of  official  cranks.  It  is  an  evil  that  is  gnawing  at  the  vitals  of  the  republic. 
We  must  squench  it  or  get  left.  There  are  millions  of  dollars  in  this  country, 
Mr.  Chairman,  that,  if  we  keep  it  out  of  the  campaign,  will  get  into  the  hands 
of  the  working  classes,  and  then  you  and  I,  Mr.  Chairman,  and  gentlemen  of 
the  convention,  can  starve  to  death.  Keep  the  campaign  money  away  from 
the  soulless  hired  man,  gentlemen,  or  good-bye  John. 

"Mr.  Chairman,  excuse  my  emotion!  It  is  almighty  seldom  that  I  make 
a  speech,  but  when  I  do,  I  strive  to  get  there  with  both  feet.  We  must  either 
work  the  campaign  funds  into  their  legitimate  channels,  or  every  blamed  pat- 
riot within  the  sound  of  my  voice  will  have  to  fasten  on  a  tin  bill  and  rustle 
for  angle-worms  amongst  the  hens.     You  hear  me?" 

[Terrific  applause,  during  which  the  delicate  odor  of  enthusiasm  was  no- 
ticed on  the  breath  of  the  entire  delegation]. 


{\  (^oat  \r)  a  prame. 

ARAMIE  lias   a  seal  brown  goat,  with   iron  gray  chin  whiskers  and  a 
breath  like  new  mown  hay. 

He  has  not  had  as  hard  a  Avinter   as  the   majority  of  stock  on  the 

-^Yc^     Rocky  mountains,  because  he  is  of  a  domestic  turn  of  mind  and  tries  to 

make  man  his  friend.     Though  social  in  his  nature,  he  never  intrudes  himself 

on  people  after  they  have  intimated  with  a  shotgun  that  they  are  weary  of  him. 

When  the  world  seems  cold  and  dark  to  him,  and  everybody  turns  coldly 
away  from  him,  he  does  not  steal  away  by  himself  and  die  of  corroding  grief; 
he  just  lies  down  on  the  sidewalk  in  the  sun  and  fills  the  air  with  the  seductive 
fragrance  of  which  he  is  the  sole  proprietor. 

One  day,  just  as  he  had  eaten  his  midday  meal  of  boot  heels  and  cold  sliced 
atmosphere  and  kerosene  barrel  staves,  he  saw  a  man  going  along  the  street 
with  a  large  looking  glass  under  his  arm. 

The  goat  watched  the  man,  and  saw  him  set  the  mirror  down  by  a  gate  and 
go  inside  the  house  after  some  more  things  that  he  was  moving.  Then  the  goat 
stammered  with  his  tail  a  few  times  and  went  up  to  see  if  he  could  eat  the  mirror. 

When  he  got  pretty  close  to  it,  he  saw  a  hungry-looking  goat  apparently 
coming  toward  him,  so  he  backed  off  a  few  yards   and  went  for  him.     There 
was  a  loud  crash,  and  when  the  man  came  out  he  saw  a  full  length  portrait  of 
a  goat  with  a  heavy,  black  walnut  frame  around  it,  going  down  the  street  with 
a  great  deal  of  apparent  relish. 

Then  the  man  said  something  derogatory  about  the  goat,  and  seemed  of- 
fended about  something. 

Goats  are  not  timid  in  their  nature  and  are  easily  domesticated. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  goat — the  cashmere  goat  and  the  plain  goat.  The 
former  is  worked  up  into  cashmere  shawls  and  cashmere  boquet.  The  latter 
is  not. 

The  cashmere  boquet  of  commerce  is  not  made  of  the  common  goat.  It  is  a 
good  thing  that  it  is  not. 

A  goat  that  has  always  been  treated  with  uniform  kindness  and  never  be- 
trayed, may  be  taught  to  eat  out  of  the  hand.  Also  out  of  the  flour  barrel  or 
the  ice-cream  freezer. 


Jo  a  /T\arried  fT[3V). 

tDELBEET  G.  GKIMES  writes  as  follows:  "I  am  a  young  man  not 
yet  twenty-two  years  of  age.  I  am  said  to  be  rather  attractive  in 
aj)pearance  and  a  fluent  conversationalist.  Tliree  years  ago  I  very 
""^  -  foolishly  married  and  settled  on  a  tree  claim  in  Dakota,  where  we  have 
three  children,  consisting  of  one  pair  of  twins  and  an  ordinary  child,  born  by 
itself.  We  are  a  considerable  distance  from  town,  and  to  remain  at  home 
during  the  winter  with  no  company  besides  my  wife  and  children  is  very 
irksome,  especially  as  my  wife  has  never  had  the  advantages  that  I  have  in  the 
way  of  society.  Her  conversational  powers  are  very  inferior,  and  I  cannot 
bear  to  remain  at  home  very  much.  So  I  go  to  town,  where  I  can  meet  my 
equals  and  enjoy  myself. 

"I  fear  that  this  will  lead  to  an  estrangement,  for,  when  I  return  at  night, 
my  wife's  nose  is  so  red  from  sniveling  all  day  that  I  can  hardly  bear  to  look 
at  her.  If  there  is  anything  in  this  world  that  I  hate,  it  is  a  red-eyed,  red- 
nosed  woman  who  sheds  tears  on  all  occasions. 

"Of  course  all  this  makes  me  irritable,  and  I  say  sharp  things  to  her,  as  I 
have  a  wonderful  command  of  language  at  such  times.  She  surely  cannot 
expect  a  young  man  twenty -two  years  old  to  stay  at  home  day  after  day  and 
listen  to  squalling  children,  when  he  is  still  in  the  heyday  of  life  with  joy 
beaming  in  his  eye. 

"Of  course  I  do  say  things  to  my  wife  that  I  am  afterward  sorry  for,  but 
I  made  a  great  mistake  in  marrying  the  woman  I  did,  and  although  some  of 
my  lady  friends  told  me  so  at  the  time,  I  did  not  then  belie^-e  it.  Do  you 
think  I  ought  to  bury  myself  on  a  tree  claim  with  a  woman  far  my  inferior, 
while  I  have  talents  that  would  shine  in  the  best  of  society?  I  am  greatly 
distressed,  and  would  willingly  seek  a  legal  separation  if  I  knew  how  to  go 
about  it.     Will  you  kindly  advise  me  ?    What  do  you  think  of  my  penmanship  ?  " 

I  hardly  know  how  to  advise  you,  Adelbert.  You  have  got  yourself  into  a 
place  where  you  cannot  do  much  but  remain  and  take  your  medicine.  Unfor- 
tunately, there  are  too  many  such  young  men  as  you  are,  Adelbert,  You  are 
young,  and  handsome,  and  smart.  You  casually  admit  this  in  your  letter,  I  see. 
You  have  a  social  nature,  and  would  shine  in  society.  You  also  reluctantly  con- 
fess this.     That  does  not  help  you  in  my  estimation,  Adelbert.     If  you  are  a 

(496) 


TO    A    MAinJIED    MAN. 


497 


bright  and  Bliining  light  in  society,  you  are  probably  a  brunette  fizzle  as  a  hus- 
band. When  you  resolved  to  take  a  tree  claim  and  make  a  home  in  Dakota, 
why  didn't  you  put  your  swalloAV-tail  coat  under  the  bed  and  retire  from  the 
giddy  whirl  and  mad  rush  of  society,  the  way  your  wife  had  to? 

I  dislike  very  much  to  speak  to  you  in  a  plain,  blunt  way,  Adelbert,  being 
a  total  stranger  to  you,  but  when  you  convey  the  idea  in  your  letter  that  you 


I  HAVE  A  WONDERFUL  COMMAND  OF  LANGUAGE. 


have  inade  a  great  mistake  in  marrying  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  and  marrying 
far  beneath  yourself,  I  am  forced  to  agree  Avith  you.  If,  instead  of  marrying 
a  young  girl  who  didn't  know  any  better  than  to  believe  that  you  were  a  man, 
instead  of  a  fractional  one,  you  had  come  to  me,  and  borroAved  my  revolver 
and  blown  out  the  fungus  groAvth  Avhich  you  refer  to  as  your  brains,  you  Avould 


498  EEMARKS   BY    BILL   NYE. 

have  bit  it.  Even  now  it  is  not  too  late.  You  can  still  come  to  me,  and  I  will 
oblige  you.  You  cannot  do  your  wife  a  greater  favor  at  this  time  than  to 
leave  her  a  widow,  and  the  sooner  you  do  so  the  lass  orphans  there  will  be. 

Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  Adelbert,  that  your  wife  made  a  mistake  also? 
Did  it  ever  bore  itself  through  your  adamantine  skull  that  it  is  not  an  un- 
broken round  of  gayety  for  a  young  girl  to  shut  herself  up  in  a  lonesome 
house  for  three  years,  gradually  acquiring  children,  and  meantime  being 
"sassed"  by  her  husband  because  she  is  not  a  fluent  conversationalist? 

Wherein  you  offend  me,  Adelbert,  is  that  you  persist  in  breathing  the  air 
which  human  beings  and  other  domestic  animals  more  worthy  than  yourself 
are  entitled  to.  There  are .  too  many  such  imitation  men  at  large.  There 
should  be  a  law  that  would  prohibit  your  getting  up  and  walking  on  your  hind 
legs  and  thus  imposing  on  other  mammals.  If  I  could  run  the  government 
for  a  few  weeks,  Adelbert,  I  would  comj^el  your  style  of  zoological  wonder  to 
climb  a  tree  and  stay  there. 

So  you  married  a  woman  who  was  far  your  inferior,  did  you?  How-did 
you  do  it?  Where  did  you  go  to  find  a  woman  who  could  be  your  inferior 
and  still  keep  out  of  the  menagerie?  Adelbert,  I  fear  you  do  your  wife  a 
great  injustice.  With  just  barely  enough  vitality  to  hand  your  name  down  to 
posterity  and  blast  the  fair  future  of  Dakota  by  leaving  your  trade-mark  on 
future  generations,  you  snivel  and  whine  over  your  blasted  life!  If  your  life 
had  been  blasted  a  little  harder  twenty  years  ago,  the  life  of  your  miserable 
little  wife  would  have  been  less  blasted. 

If  you  had  acquired  a  little  more  croup  twenty  years  ago,  Dakota  would 
have  been  ahead.  Why  did  you  go  on  year  after  year,  permitting  people  to 
believe  you  were  a  man,  when  you  could  have  undeceived  them  in  two  minutes 
by  crawling  into  a  hollow  log  and  remaining  there? 

Your  penmanship  is  very  good.  It  is  better  than  your  chances  for  a  bright 
immortality  beyond  the  grave.  Write  to  me  again  whenever  you  feel  lone- 
some or  want  advice.  I  was  a  young  married  man  myself  once,  and  I  know 
what  they  have  to  endure.  Up  to  the  time  of  my  marriage,  I  had  never 
known  a  harsher  tone  than  a  flute  note ;  my  early  life  ran  quiet  as  the  clear 
brook  by  which  I  sported,  and  so  on.  I  was  a  great  belle  in  society,  also.  I 
attended  all  the  swell  balls  and  parties  in  our  county  for  years.  Wherever  you 
found  fair  women  and  brave  men  tripping  the  light  bombastic  toe,  you  would 
also  find  me.      "Sometimes  Ijplayed  second  violin,  and  sometimes  I  called  offJ' 


5o  ar)  Embryo  poet. 

WHE  following  correspondence  is  now  given  to  the  press  for  the  first 

^^    time,  with  the  consent  of  the  parties: 

Wm.  Nye,  Esq. — Dear  Sir — I  am  a  young  man,  20  years  of  age, 
^  with  fair  education  and  a  strong  desire  to  succeed.  I  have  done  some 
writing  for  the  press,  having  written  up  a  very  nice  article  on  progressive 
euchre,  which  was  a  great  success  and  published  in  our  home  paper,  But  it 
was  not  copied  so  much  in  other  papers  as  I  would  like  to  have  saw  it,  and  I 
take  my  pen  in  hand  at  this  time  to  write  and  ask  you  what  there  is  in  the 
article  enclosed  that  prevents  its  being  copied  abroad  all  over  our  broad  land. 
I  write  just  as  I  hope  *you  would  feel  perfectly  free  to  write  me  at  any  time. 
I  think  that  writers  ought  to  aid  each  other.     Yours  with  kind  regards, 

P.  O.  Box  202.  Algeenon  L.  Tewey. 

I  have  carefully  read  and  pondered  over  the  dissertation  on  progressive 
euchre  which  you  send  me,  Algernon,  and  I  cannot  see  why  it  should  not 
be  ravenously  seized  and  copied  by  the  press  of  the  broad,  wide  land  referred 
to  in  your  letters.  If  you  have  time,  perhaps  it  would  be  well  enough  to  go 
to  the  leading  journalists  of  our  country  and  ask  them  what  they  mean  by  it. 
You  might  write  till  your  vertebrae  fell  out  of  your  clothes  on  the  floor,  and 
it  would  not  do  half  so  much  good  as  a  personal  conference  with  the  editors 
of  America.  First  prepare  your  article,  then  go  personally  to  the  editors  of 
the  country  and  call  them  one  by  one  out  into  the  hall,  in  a  current  of  cold  air, 
and  explain  the  article  to  them.  In  that  way  you  will  form  pleasant  acquaint- 
ances and  get  solid  with  our  leading  journalists.  You  have  no  idea,  Alger- 
non, how  lonely  and  desolate  the  life  of  a  practical  journalist  is.  Your  fresh 
young  face  and  your  fresh  young  ways,  and  your  charming  grammatical  im- 
provisations, would  delight  an  editor  who  has  nothing  to  do  from  year  to  year 
but  attend  to  his  business. 

(499) 


500  REMARKS   BY   BILL   NYE. 

Do  not  try  to  win  the  editors  of  America  by  writing  poems  beginning: 

Now  the  merry  goatlet  jumps, 

And  the  trifling  yaller  dog, 
With  the  tin  can  madly  humps 

Like  an  acrobatic  frog. 

At  times  you  will  be  tempted  to  write  such  stuff  as  this,  and  mark  it  with 
a  large  blue  pencil  and  send  it  to  the  papers  of  the  country,  but  that  is  not  a 
good  way  to  do. 

Seriously,  Algernon,  I  would  suggest  that  you  make  a  bold  dash  for  suc- 
cess by  writing  things  that  other  people  are  not  writing,  thinking  things 
that  other  people  are  not  thinking,  and  saying  things  that  other 
people  are  not  saying.  You  will  say  that  this  advice  is  easier  to  give 
than  to  take,  and  I  agree  with  you.  But  the  tendency  of  the  age  is  to 
wear  the  same  style  of  collar  and  coat  and  hat  that  every  other  man  wears,  and 
to  talk  and  write  like  other  men ;  and  to  be  frank  with  you,  Algernon,  I  think 
it  is  an  infernal  shame.  If  you  will  look  carefully  about  you,  you  will  see  that 
the  preacher,  who  is  talking  mostly  to  dusty  pew  cushions,  is  also  the  preacher 
who  is  thinking  the  thoughts  of  other  men.  He  is  "up-ending"  his  barrel  of 
sermons  annually,  and  they  were  made  in  the  first  place  from  the  sermons  of 
a  man  who  also  "up-ended"  his  barrel  annually.  Go  where  the  preacher  is 
talking  to  full  houses,  and  you  will  discover  that  his  sermons  are  full  of  hu- 
manity and  originality.  They  are  not  written  in  a  library  by  a  man  with  in- 
terchangeable ideas,  an  automatic  cog-wheel  thinker,  but  they  are  prepared  by 
a  man  who  earnestly  and  honestly  studies  the  great,  aching  heart  of  humanity, 
and  full  of  sincerity,  originality  and  old-fashioned  Christianity,  appeals  to  your 
better  impulses. 

How  is  it  with  our  poetry  ?  As  a  fellow-traveler  and  sea-sick  tourist  across 
life's  tempestuous  tide,  I  ask  you,  Algernon,  who  is  writing  the  poetry  that 
will  live  ?  Is  it  the  man  who  is  sawing  out  and  sandpapering  stanzas  of  the 
same  general  dimensions  as  some  other  poet,  in  which  he  bewails  the  fact  that 
he  loved  a  tall,  well-behaved,  accomplished  girl,  sixteen  hands  high,  who  did 
not  require  his  love  ? 

Ah,  no!  He  is  not  the  poet  whose  terra  cotta  statue  will  stand  in  the 
cemetery,  wearing  a  laurel  wreath  and  a  lumpy  brow.  Show  me  the  poet  who 
is  intimate  with  nature  and  who  studies  the  little  joys  and  sorrows  of  the  poor; 


TO    AN    EMBRYO    TOET.  501 

who  smells  the  clover  and  writes  about  live,  healthy  people  with  ideas  and  ap- 
petites.    He  is  my  poet. 

I  apologize  for  speaking  so  earnestly,  Algernon,  but  I  saw  by  your  letter 
that  you  felt  kindly  toward  me,  and  rather  invited  an  expression  of  opinion  on 
my  part.  So  I  have  written  more  freely,  perhaps,  than  I  otherwise  would. 
We  are  both  writers.  Measurably  so,  at  least.  You  write  on  progressive 
euchre,  and  I  write  on  anything  that  I  can  get  hold  of.  So  let  us  agree  here 
and  promise  each  other  that,  whatever  we  do,  we  will  not  think  through  the 
thinker  of  another  man. 

The  Great  Kuler  of  the  universe  has  made  and  placed  upon  the  earth  a 
good  many  millions  of  men,  but  He  never  made  any  two  of  them  exactly  alike. 
We  may  differ  from  every  one  of  the  countless  millions  who  have  preceded 
us,  and  still  be  safe.  Even  you  and  I,  Algernon,  may  agree  in  many  matters, 
and  yet  be  very  dissimilar.     At  least  I  hope  so,  and  I  presume  you  do  also. 


E(:(;e9tri(;ities  of  QeT)m^. 

,LFONSO  QUANTUKNERNIT  DOWDELL,  Frumenti,  Ohio,  writes 
^W  to  know  something  of  the  effects  of  alcohol  on  the  braiu  of  an  adult, 
U'wt  losing  evidently  apprehensive  that  some  day  he  may  become  an  adult 
himself.     He  says: 

"I  would  be  glad  to  know  whether  or  not  you  think  that  liquor  stimulates 
the  brain  to  do  better  literary  work.  I  have  been  studying  the  personal  history 
of  Edo-ar  A.  Poe,  and  learned  through  that  medium  that  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  drinking  a  good  deal  of  liquor  at  times.  I  also  read  that  George  D.  Pren- 
tice, who  wrote  'The  Closing  Year,'  and  other  nice  poems,  was  a  hearty 
drinker.  Will  you  tell  me  whether  this  is  all  true  or  not,  and  also  what  the 
effect  of  alcohol  is  on  the  brain  of  an  adult?" 

It  is  said  on  good  authority  that  Edgar  A.  Poe  ever  and  anon  imbibed  the 
popular  beverages  of  his  day  and  age,  some  of  which  contained  alcohol.  We 
are  led  to  believe  these  statements  because  they  remain  as  yet  undenied.  But 
Poe  did  a  great  deal  of  good  in  that  way,  for  he  set  an  example  that  has  been 
followed  ever  since,  more  or  less,  by  quite  a  number  of  poets'  apprentices  who 
emulated  Poe's  great  gift  as  a  drinker.  These  men,  thinking  that  poesy  and 
delirium  tremens  went  hand  in  hand,  became  fluent  drunkards  early  in  their 
career,  so  that  finally,  instead  of  issuing  a  small  blue  volume  of  poems,  they 
punctuated  a  drunkard's  grave. 

So  we  see  that  Poe  did  a  great  work  aside  from  what  he  wrote.  He  opened 
up  a  way  for  these  men  which  eradicated  them,  and  made  life  more  desirable 
for  those  who  remained.  He  made  it  easy  for  those  who  thought  genius  and 
inebriation  were  synonymous  terms  to  get  to  the  hospital  early  in  the  day,  while 
the  overworked  waste-basket  might  secure  a  few  hours  of  much  needed  rest. 

George  D.  Prentice  has  also  done  much  toward  weeding  out  a  class  of 
people  who  otherwise  might  have  become  disagreeable.  It  is  better  that  these 
men  who  write  under  the  influence  of  rum  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 

(502J 


ECCENTEICITIES   OF   GENIUS. 


503 


police  as  early  as  possible.     The  police  can  lianclle  them  better  than  the  editor 


can. 


Do  not  try,  Alfonso,  to  experiment  in  this  way.  Because  Mr.  Poe  and  Mr. 
Prentice  could  write  beautiful  and  witty  things  between  drinks,  do  not,  oh  do 
not  imagine  that  you  can  begin  that  way  and  succeed  at  last. 

The  effect  of  alcohol  on  the  brain  of  an  adult  is  to  congest  it  finally.  Al- 
cohol will  sometimes  congest  the  brain  of  an  adult  under  the  most  trying  and 
discouraging  circumstances.     I  have  frequently  known  it  to  scorch  out  and 


THINKING  ABOUT  THE  TOEM. 

paralyze  the  brain  in  cases  where  other  experiments  had  not  been  successful  in 
showing  the  presence  of  a  brain  at  all. 

That  is  the  reason  why  some  people  love  to  fool  with  this  great  chemical. 
It  revives  their  suspicions  regarding  the  presence  of  a  brain. 

The  habits  of  literary  men  vary  a  good  deal,  for  no  two  of  them  seem  to 
care  to  adopt  the  same  plan. 

I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  showing  here  my  own  laboratory  and  methods 
of  thought.  This  is  from  a  drawing  made  by  myself,  and  represents  the  writer 
in  his  study  and  in  the  act  of  thinking  about  a  poem. 


504  BEMARKS    BY   BILL   NYE. 

Last  summer  I  wrote  a  large  poem  entitled,  Moaiu'ngs  of  flic  Moisf,  Mald- 

rious  Scay     I  have  it  still.     The  back  of  it  has  a  memoranda  on  it  in  blue^ 

pencil  from  the  leading  editors  of  our  broad  land,  but  otherwise  it  is  just  as  1 

wrote  it. 

The  engraving  represents  me  in  the  act  of  thinking  about  the  poem,  and 

what  I  will  do  with  the  money  when  I  get  it. 

I  am  now  preparing  a  poem  entitled,  "  The  Umbrella.''''  It  is  a  dainty  lit- 
tle bit  of  verse,  and  my  hired  man  thinks  it  is  a  gem.  I  called  it  "  The  Um- 
brella" so  that  it  would  not  be  returned. 

By  looking  at  the  drawing  you  will  see  the  rapid  change  of  expression  on 
the  face  as  the  work  goes  on. 

I  give  the  drawing  in  order  also,  to  show  the  rich  furniture  of  the  room. 
All  poets  do  not  revel  in  such  gaudy  trappings  as  I  do,  but  I  cannot  write  well 
in  a  bare  and  ill -furnished  room.  In  these  apartments  there  is  also  a  win- 
dow wliich  does  not  show  in  the  engraving.  I  have  tried  over  and  over  again 
to  write  a  poem  in  a  room  that  had  no  window  in  it,  but  I  cannot  say  that  I 
ever  wrote  one  under  such  circumstances  that  I  thought  would  live. 

You  can  do  as  you  think  best  about  furnishing  your  room  as  I  have  mine. 
You  might,  of  course,  succeed  as  well  by  writing  in  a  plainer  apartment,  but 
I  could  not.  All  my  poetical  work  that  was  done  in  the  cramped  and  plainly 
furnished  room  that  I  formerly  occupied  over  Knadler's  livery  stable,  was 
ephemeral. 

It  got  into  a  few  of  the  leading  autograph  albums  of  the  country,  but  it 
never  got  into  the  papers. 

I  would  not  use  alcohol,  however.  Poe  and  Prentice  could  use  it,  but 
I  never  could.  After  a  long  debauch,  I  could  always  work  well  enough  on  the 
street,  but  I  could  not  do  literary  work. 


i 


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Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


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